


Law of Vengeance

by Dusk Peterson (duskpeterson)



Series: The Three Lands [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Biracial Character, Bromance, Character(s) of Color, Courage, Crime, Dungeons, Emperors, Empires - Freeform, Ethical Issues, Eunuchs, Family, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Gods, Guards, Het, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Lords, Male Character of Color, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Master & Servant, Mentors, Murderers, Older Character, Original Fiction, Original Trans Character(s) - Freeform, Princes, Prisonfic, Queer Gen, Rebels, Recovery, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Rulers, Self-Discipline, Soldiers, Spies, Students, Trans character of color, War, abuse issues, abuse recovery, brown character(s), celibate, criminals, don't need to read other stories in the series, gen - Freeform, liege lords, liegemen, male-to-nonbinary-to-male character, master & slave, original gen, original het subplot, queerplatonic, servantfic, slavefic, spirituality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 151,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskpeterson/pseuds/Dusk%20Peterson
Summary: "For many years, I have wished to make a memoir of my life to pass on to future generations of Emorians who desire to learn what it means to have complete dedication to the Chara and his law. This is not to be the memoir I intended, but I find the time passing slowly here in the Chara's dungeon . . ."For over twenty years, Lord Carle has told the heir to the Emorian throne that vengeance is only the other side of mercy, and that disobedience and treachery should never be forgiven. Finally it seems that his message has been received. Which makes it all the more unfortunate that Carle should have chosen this moment to break the law.As war threatens and the foundations of his life crumble, his only hope for rescue lies with a man who has every reason to hate Carle.Boilerplate warning for all my stories + my rating system.
Relationships: Original Male Character & Original Male Character
Series: The Three Lands [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/15107
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8
Collections: A Whisper to the  Dark Side, Chains: The Powerfic Archive, Queer Gen Subcollection, Slavefic Central, Stove Stories





	1. Introduction of Terms | 1

**Author's Note:**

> To my friend and first beta reader,  
> Katharine Bond.
> 
> _[Koina ta ton philon](http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/show/1145)._
> 
> In gratitude to our alma mater,   
> St. John's College in Annapolis, Maryland. 
> 
> _[Facio liberos ex liberis libris libraque](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._John%27s_College_\(Annapolis/Santa_Fe\))._
>
>> Half the world's troubles come from men not being trained to resent a fallacy as much as an insult.
>> 
>> —Mary Renault: _The Last of the Wine._
>> 
>> o—o—o
>> 
>> Beginning students of the law commonly make the error of believing that only the Summaries and Justifications of the Chara's laws need be memorized. Closer examination, however, will show that each section of the law is vital to an understanding of the whole. Students who have a particularly strong respect for the law may be interested in applying the sections of the law to a particular crime. This exercise serves to show how each law's structure parallels the commission, judgment, and punishment of a crime. This being the case, we may assume that, the more learned a man is in the law, the less likely he is to fall into the error of committing a crime through lack of clear understanding. 
>> 
>> In this generation, though, it is increasingly difficult to find men who possess enough love for the law that they can bear to endure the hard training necessary to understand the system of judgment created and perfected by the Empire of Emor. In particular, it is difficult to find students who are willing to allow their pride to be disciplined, and who will acquiesce to suffer the irony that tutors such as myself employ in order to show that duty must at all times be the master over personal feelings. 
>> 
>> Each law is divided into five parts . . . 
>> 
>> —From an unfinished paper by the High Lord of Emor.

##  **_Law of Vengeance_ 1**

##  **INTRODUCTION OF TERMS**

> _Introduction of Terms (law term):_ Passage within a law that places the law in the context of the surrounding laws and thus makes clear the relative gravity of the crime.

  
**CHAPTER ONE**  
**986 a.g.l. (after the giving of the law)**  


> _Each law is preceded by a heading called the Summary, in which the beginning phrase of the law is combined with a summary of the Sentences. The term Summary is also used to describe the background necessary for understanding the law._
> 
> —From the High Lord's paper.

o—o—o

For many years, I have wished to make a memoir of my life to pass on to future generations of Emorians who desire to learn what it means to have complete dedication to the Chara and his law. This is not to be the memoir I intended, but I find the time passing slowly here in the Chara's dungeon, and I would rather spend my days thinking of what has happened than of what is to come. For in one month's time I will be taken before the Chara so that he may pass judgment on me. After that – for we Emorians move swiftly in these matters – I will be taken to the execution yard, and my head will be sliced off. 

It is a gentler punishment, says the Chara, than I deserve. 

He told me this last night when he came to see me. He stood at one end of the cell, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded, and wearing the cold smile I knew he had learned from me. His tunic-flap was pinned shut with his royal emblem brooch depicting the Balance of Judgment, the Heart of Mercy, and the Sword of Vengeance. He has worn the brooch nearly every day since I gave it to him when he was a boy, but I knew from his look that he had worn it this time in mockery. 

Mockery is an activity in which he has had much practice since my arrest. He has commanded me to address him as Peter, since I was always reluctant to presume upon our friendship and address my ruler in so familiar a fashion. By the same token, he calls me Lord Carle, though I am no longer a council lord and will soon be nothing more than a court case that may interest future generations, since I am the first man in four hundred years to be charged with this particular crime. 

The Chara Peter says I ought to be happy to die in such a manner, because I have never loved anything more than the law books. He is right that I love the law, just as I have always loved the embodiment of the law: the Chara, who keeps this land alive through his judgment of the Emorian people. But it was not until my arrest that I realized what I love as much as the Chara and his law: the man named Peter, who for the past twenty-two years has been to me the son I never had. 

o—o—o

There was a time, not long ago, when I was as welcome in the Chara's quarters as any father would be. It had been many years since the Chara's guards had bothered to announce my arrival when I came unbidden. Of course I knew better than to think that friendship lowers all barriers, so when I arrived at the Chara's quarters one night three months ago and found the guards' spears crossed before the door, I approached the guards only in order to discover whether the Chara was likely to be free soon from his visitor. 

The guards, staring at the corridor wall opposite, made no reply, so I stepped hastily away, lest I unwittingly discover with whom the Chara was holding a closed audience. But at that moment the door opened, the spears swiftly rose, and a man emerged into the corridor. 

I caught only a brief glimpse of him as I turned; I was grateful that I moved so swiftly that I did not have time to recognize the man, so I had not stumbled into any secrets. But in the next moment I turned back as I heard a voice calling my name. 

She was standing by the door, dressed in a long, golden gown that had been a present from the Chara. The gown's color went well with her hair, which was very dark, and with her face, which was as pale as my own. I was used to seeing that face alight with energy and merriness, so I think it was her troubled expression that caused me to walk immediately back to where she stood. 

"Did you come to see Peter?" she asked me. "I'm sure that he'll be glad you're here." 

"I would not want to trouble either of you so late at night, Lady Ursula," I replied, bowing toward the Chara's Consort. 

She answered by smiling and stepping back in the doorway. I entered the Chara's sitting chamber. 

This was a small room: the Chara's quarters were more modest than my own and were ascetic in their furnishings. A few chairs and footstools were scattered about the chamber, a reclining couch lazed against the right wall near a hearth that blazed with an autumn fire, and a writing table stood stiff and upright against the same wall. The table's most prominent feature was an ancient jewel box I had never asked about, but which I knew must contain the Pendant of Judgment. What immediately caught my eye, though, was the object that filled most of the chamber's back wall: a ceiling-high bookcase containing a complete set of the Emorian law books. 

The sleeping-chamber door on the same wall was closed, and the Chara Peter was nowhere to be seen, but Ursula caught me looking that way. "Oh, he's still awake," she said. "He'll be up for hours. I hope that you aren't offended if I retire at this time." 

"Not at all, Lady Ursula," I replied, going to stand by the fire, for a September night breeze was making its way through the window. "The Chara seems to have an unflagging capacity to survive on three or four hours' worth of sleep, but the rest of us are not so lucky." 

She opened her mouth, but I saw her swallow whatever she was going to say as the sleeping-chamber door opened and her husband walked out. He was in the process of pinning his open tunic-flap with the emblem brooch. As he noticed me, he looked startled. "Carle! It is a delight to see you. I have missed your company this week." 

"I have come by on several occasions, Chara, but you were busy at those times." 

"I know; the guards told me you had been here. It's this cursed business in Koretia – it has kept me up to all hours. Are you for bed, then?" He spoke these last words to Ursula, who was slipping through the chamber door. She nodded, presented her cheek to the Chara so that he could kiss it, and then closed the door behind her. 

"I was told that you have also been spending a good deal of time with Lord James." I spoke in a low voice, my gaze still on the sleeping-chamber door. 

"You won't wake her, Carle. I had the door changed to double thickness." The Chara waved me toward a chair by the fire. I hesitated only until he had seated himself, before following suit. In the light of the flames I could view better the Chara's face, darkened with circles under his eyes and wrinkled with almost as many lines of my own. He had passed his thirty-sixth birthday during the previous winter. The circles were as permanent a feature to his face as his cloud-grey eyes. Early in his reign, the Chara had discovered that the only way in which he could have time outside of his duties was to go to bed long after midnight and to rise at dawn. He had told me once, in his usual affectionate manner, that a few hours of lost sleep was a price he was quite willing to pay in exchange for the company of friends such as myself. 

Now he said, "Yes, I've been getting to know our new council lord, but that ought not to have stopped you from visiting. As a matter of fact, he'll be coming by soon; I hope that you will stay when he arrives. I would enjoy a chat with you both." 

"It is rather late for me, Chara. I only stopped by to give my greetings." 

"Lateness never prevented you from visiting before, Carle. What's the matter? Have you lost faith in your protégé already?" 

I would have made some light reply, but I noted the tone of his voice and realized I would have no choice but to answer his question. "It is too early to make such a judgment, Chara; it takes years for a sapling to grow to a height where its quality can be determined. I have been disturbed, though, by the direction of some of his questions to me. He seems to have arrived at this palace under the impression that he would be granted larger responsibilities than he deserves at this stage." 

"Well, it is a characteristic of youth to want to take on great challenges. But his views on the law are sound?" 

I caught his look and smiled. "Chara, if you have been meeting with him every evening of this week, then you need not ask me that question. What I will say is that, whatever his defects, Lord James does have a great respect for the law. That may help guide him back onto surer paths than the one he presently travels." 

"It may be that his respect for his High Lord can do the same." The Chara Peter leaned forward and gazed into the fire, twisting the royal seal-ring on his right hand. "Carle, I learned much of my work, not by studying the law – though I gained certain benefits from being closeted in my room for ten years, reading law books – but by imitating my father. And even before my father died, you were my second model: the man I looked to for guidance in how to hand down decisions and issue commands. No books could have taught me how to do those things. It may be that James will look to you for the same guidance, if you treat him in a gentle enough manner. Would you be willing to do so?" 

A breeze sweeping into the room shook the hearth-flames, causing tiny stars of fire to fall and consume the brown leaves below. I used the moment to reflect that, while he had no heir of his own, Peter had always possessed the uncanny ability to identify other men's heirs. This thought, containing as it did the flavor of the dying season, was uncomfortable to my mind, so I merely said, "If you wish this, Chara, then of course I will do what I can. But Lord James has a certain independence of mind that may make the task difficult." 

"So did I." Peter gave me a grin that was familiar to me from his boyhood. "Do you remember punishing me after I tried to prove that slaves are really a category of free-men? I can still recite the two hundred and sixty-four laws on slavery that you made me memorize." 

"You would not try to twist the law in such a fashion today." 

"No, I have matured in my view of the law. But youth has its own wisdom, Carle, and it would be dangerous for either of us to forget that." 

An irregular, staccato knock rattled the main door, unlike the exactly spaced rhythms of the guards' knock. I was granted a moment to reflect that it had taken James only one week to receive visiting privileges to the Chara. Then Peter shouted, "Come," the door opened, and the young council lord entered. 

I do not think it was merely my age that made me feel as though the Chara's quarters had been invaded by a child who ought to be playing at games rather than standing before the ruler of an empire. James had adapted to palace life with a self-confidence that worried me; I was not sure whether he possessed inner maturity or simply was too ignorant to understand the great step he had taken. But that confidence was belied by his hands, which often fidgeted at his side. One of those hands was dancing now over the hilt of his sword, and I suppressed a smile. Despite my love of tradition, even I did not require that my lords dress formally outside of official meetings. Seeing James wear his free-man's weapon at this hour of the night was like watching a young peacock fluff its feathers in display. 

His expression was calm, though, as he bowed toward the Chara. His gaze rested briefly on me, but he did not ask the Chara whether he had interrupted our conversation. He simply sat down when Peter waved him into a chair. 

"I think that I would like some wine," announced the Chara without preliminary, and he rose from his place. I began to follow suit, caught Peter's warning frown, and sank back down into my chair. As Peter walked over to where the wine pitcher stood, I said, "You ought to have a free-servant for such tasks." 

"Nonsense." Peter pushed three cups over to the pitcher and began pouring. "I spend my entire day having people serve me: lords and their ladies, palace officials, palace guests and visitors, the slave-servants who tend my quarters . . . not to mention every free-servant who ventures within reach of me. It gives me pleasure to be able to serve my friends at the end of the day. Besides, I have never found a free-servant who would suit me as well as my last one." He gave a quick grin and came over to hand us the cups. Then he walked to his writing table and picked up a piece of paper lying there. "Speaking of which, this may be of interest to you both." 

I took the sheet from his hands and read it silently.  


> _To the Great Chara of Emor and Its Dominions, Judge of the People, Commander of the Armies:_
> 
> _Greetings. I have taken into consideration your wishes concerning the new ambassador and have sent a man who may suit the needs of us both. I ask that you give serious consideration to what he has to say, for the sake of both our lands, and that you extend to him your hospitality during his visit. Like you, I do not wish for the peace which has united our lands for the past ten years to be broken by brotherly quarrels._
> 
> _The Jackal, Master of the Koretian Land_

  
Below the signature was an embossed seal whose outline was broad at the top and narrow at the bottom, triangular in shape like Koretia's borders or like a dog's head. Within the outline was the stylized face of a jackal. It was the Koretian royal emblem, the mask of the Jackal. 

I passed the letter to James as I said, "That does not sound like the letters you have shown me in the past." 

"No, it is very cold. The Jackal is not pleased with my decision last summer to expel the Koretian court officials working in this land. But I retain hope that we will work out our differences through the new ambassador. I made it clear to the Jackal that I did not want to see the man he sent me last time, who had little knowledge of Emorian ways. I am not going to repeat my father's mistake of acting as a dry-nurse to incompetent ambassadors." 

James had been silent all this time, fingering the jewel-work on his cup. Now he looked up from the letter and asked, "Would you be willing to act as a dry-nurse to me, Chara?" 

I was in the act of swallowing some wine; I spluttered the drink and swivelled my head toward the Chara. He was looking amused, I think as much at my reaction as at James's words. He replied, "Teach you about Koretia, you mean? Surely, even at Lone Bay Beach, you know of our troubles with the Jackal." 

"I assure you, Chara, we receive almost no news there about what is happening in this land, much less about what is happening in foreign lands." James kept his voice disingenuous as he made this absurd statement, and Peter passed his hand over his mouth to hide another smile. I frowned; James was learning all too quickly the weapons of verbal warfare in the palace, such as how to quiz a man on his knowledge of a topic you know well. 

But both the Chara and I did James an injustice; either that, or the young man was uncommonly good at acting, for his voice dripped with earnestness as he added, "Of course I know that Koretia was once one of our dominions and that it won its independence during a war ten years ago, but that is the extent of my knowledge." 

"We were not at war with Koretia," I said sharply. I caught Peter's eye on me and added more gently, "Nor did Koretia win its independence. The Chara freed the land, judging that the people there had customs which were incompatible with Emorian rule." 

"It might be more accurate to say that the Jackal and I together came to an agreement that this was best." Peter reseated himself with his back to the fire. In the dim light, his eyes had grown dark. 

James hesitated a moment. I had already noticed his talent for sensing a change in men's moods and redirecting his questions accordingly. I was willing to guess that he had intended his next question to be about Koretia's period as a dominion, but now he asked, "What was the Jackal before he became the ruler of Koretia? I take it that he was a Koretian official, if you were negotiating with him." 

"He was no official; he was a rebel," I said flatly. 

"He was the human form of a god," Peter said just as firmly. He noticed my look and added, "You needn't give me your opinion of the Koretian religion, Carle. I've heard it often enough. Besides, you never witnessed this side of the Jackal. But I saw the Jackal when he wore the mask of the Koretian god, and I heard him speak in a god's voice. I know that, in those days at least, the Jackal was more than simply a man." 

James was tracing the jewels on his cup with unceasing circular gestures, but his eyes remained fixed on Peter's face. "What did this god say to you?" 

Peter gave a faint smile, and his eyes dropped, as though he were in the presence of a master even greater than he. "He told me that I, like the Jackal, was his servant, wearing his mask and judging the people with the laws which he, the god, had given to the Emorian people. Do you remember, Carle, that I once asked you who gave the law to the first Charas? You had no answer for me, but the god did, and I believed his words. It explained to me certain things I had always known about myself but that I had never spoken of to you or anyone else, because they were things which can be known only to the Chara." 

He raised his eyes to meet mine, and now it was my gaze that dropped. I heard James draw breath and begin to say something, but Peter cut him off, abandoning this weighty subject like a shield that has proved too heavy to carry. "At any rate, James, Carle's answer is true: the Jackal was leader of a group of rebels who were fighting to win Koretia's freedom." 

There was a short silence, and I looked up to see James biting his bottom lip and furrowing his brow. He said, "You negotiated with a rebel-leader?" 

"I had no choice." Peter's tone was matter-of-fact, but once again I saw James hesitate, sensing the increasing darkness of the Chara's mood. Peter gave me a slight nod; then he stood once more and went over to refill his cup. 

I said to James, "As a council lord, you are entitled to know, but your lips must be sealed on this matter, as it could bring grave harm to the Chara if the people were to know how it is that Koretia received its independence. The true story carries no shame, but the tale could easily be twisted in such a way as to smear the Chara's reputation. For this reason, neither the Chara nor the Jackal have ever spoken on the subject to any but their closest advisers." 

Peter returned to his seat and said, "I negotiated with the Jackal because he made me his prisoner. He had planned to kill me unless we could come to a settlement. Instead, he set me free, and it was then that I decided to give Koretia its independence and hand over the government to the Jackal. But I have no proof that I decided this voluntarily, only my own word and the word of those who witnessed my imprisonment." 

"Your own word ought to be enough," I said gruffly. I was watching Peter's face carefully, searching for the signs I knew too well, which would cause me to change the topic. But so far Peter's expression remained relaxed. 

James, however, was proving as much a nuisance here in the Chara's quarters as I had found him to be in the council quarters. Probing with accuracy for the source of the Chara's darkness, he asked, "How did you come to be the Jackal's prisoner?" 

Peter caught me leaning forward to see his face better and gave a reassuring smile. He said lightly, "Through an ambassador who had unusual methods of bringing peace." 

This I could not allow, not even for the sake of lightening Peter's mood. "Through treachery, you mean," I said bluntly. 

"Carle . . ." Peter's protest was soft. 

"You cannot deny that it was treachery." 

"It was treachery against me, but not against a higher master. You've never been able to understand Andrew's loyalties." 

"Who is Andrew?" asked James. I caught a glimpse of the eagerness in his face and inwardly cursed the ill manners of youth. It was of no importance to him that he was causing the Chara pain. All that he cared about was the knowledge he was gaining. 

But if the story had to be told, I was not going to allow Peter to present an anemic version of what had happened. "Andrew was the Chara's free-servant," I said. "He was a Koretian who had spent many years in Emor, had sworn his oath of loyalty to the Chara, and had a custom of declaring three times a day that he was a faithful Emorian. Once he was back in his native land, he promptly delivered the Chara into the Jackal's hands." 

To my relief, this rendition of the sordid tale caused Peter to smile. "Carle, if you gave that sort of testimony in the court, I would have you charged with false witness. You know very well that there was more to it than what you have said. Andrew was no longer my free-servant at the time this happened; he was my friend, and remains so. He travelled to Koretia with us and discovered that his childhood blood brother had become the Jackal, taking on the powers of the god to whom Andrew had sworn his service before coming to Emor." 

"What is a blood brother?" James was now sitting on the edge of his seat, like an eager student. 

"The product of a superstitious Koretian ceremony," I replied. "Two friends smear blood on each other and swear before their gods that they will help to fulfill each other's vows. Am I right in remembering that Andrew vowed to kill the Chara?" 

"Carle, Andrew was only eight then." Peter was definitely amused now. "And the god did not require him to fulfill that part of the vow, only the part in which he vowed to bring peace to Koretia. Which he did; I would not have been able to meet with the Jackal if it had not been for Andrew's so-called treachery. I'm sorry if you would have preferred war in Koretia to Andrew having complex loyalties." 

"We may yet be at war." 

I could have bitten my tongue off then, for my careless words caused Peter's smile to disappear. "Yes, our troubles are serious," he said. "I had hoped that by marrying the Jackal's ward I could prevent conflict from arising between Emor and Koretia, but family quarrels are the worst. Moreover, I have not succeeded in convincing the Jackal that he is unwise to cause grievances between our lands. His only chance last time of winning Koretia's independence through violence was to trap and kill me, since I have no heir. He ought to realize that if he compels me to use force against him, I will be obliged to strip him of his power and make Koretia a dominion once more." 

I thought back to my brief encounter with the Koretian ruler, who had calm eyes and a blade in his voice. I ventured to say, "The Koretians have a powerful army. They may prove troublesome if they attack first." 

"Which they won't. The Jackal held me prisoner for an entire day and night, risking his own arrest. He is not a man who likes to shed blood. I can use this fact to our advantage, and turn the Jackal's gentleness as a weapon against him." 

I hid my uneasiness. Matters of war were the Chara's province, and I could not offer advice unless he asked for it. James, however, seemed blithely unaware of boundaries. He skipped merrily over the border between the Chara and his council by asking, "Will I be able to speak to the Koretian Ambassador while he is here?" 

I saw the corners of Peter's mouth quiver, but he answered seriously, "No doubt the Ambassador will be interested in discussing unofficial matters with the council lords." 

"But not official matters?" 

"No," said Peter, adding patiently what every schoolboy knows: "The Chara is Commander of the Armies. The Ambassador negotiates only with the Chara, not with the council." 

I would have thought that this decisive statement from the Chara would cause James to turn back to his own territory. But then, I would have thought that James already knew the boundaries of his territory. Apparently I was wrong on both counts, because James stated confidently, "I think it would make more sense if the Ambassador were to negotiate with the council as well, since so many of the decisions in peace settlements affect matters with which the council must deal." 

"No doubt there is much truth to what you say." The Chara was still speaking with the grave respect he would show toward a senior council lord, rather than revealing to James that he was making the statements of a child. "But the law says that the Ambassador deals with the Chara, and the law has the final word on the subject." 

I knew better than to believe that James would accept the final word from anyone except himself, so I felt no surprised when he replied, "But the law can be ambiguous in many areas. It is possible that this is a law whose meaning can be stretched to embrace what I have said. I think that I will check into the matter for you." 

"That is very kind of you, Lord James." I caught the Chara's use of the title and held my breath, but James showed no indication he had heard the warning. With his eyes fixed on James, Peter continued, "I doubt, however, that the High Lord wants to have his law researchers wasting time on this matter." 

"I most certainly do not," I growled, annoyed by James's obstinate blindness to the danger he was putting himself in. 

"Oh, I can look into the matter during my own time," said James cheerfully. "I think that it is important to settle the question." 

I expected Peter to smile at this impudent statement. When he did not, I carefully placed my cup on the table nearby and braced myself for what was to follow. 

Peter was continuing to restrain himself, though. He merely said, "I have looked into the matter myself in the past. There is no need for you to trouble yourself." 

"I don't mind checking. Perhaps you overlooked something." 

My gaze flew to Peter's face. The Chara said, his words spaced in formal rhythm in a manner that read like a royal proclamation, "Lord James, I really must ask you not to concern yourself with this matter any further." 

James smiled back at the Chara, as a small boy might smile innocently at a soldier who has raised his weapon. "Chara, you need not worry that I will neglect my duties. I consider this an important part of my leisure time, to discover the meaning of the law. I would be happy to help you with this task." 

Peter's eyes, grave but still guarded, turned to mine. After a moment, he said, "Carle, I believe that I have some Daxion nuts in the other room. Would you care for some?" 

"Thank you, Chara," I said. "I would indeed be grateful if you fetched them." 

I watched Peter until he had gone into the side chamber opposite the hearth and had closed the door behind him. Then I looked back at James. Something had finally penetrated the young lord's obtuseness. He was watching the Chara's departure with uneasiness. 

"Lord James." 

James's head jerked around at my tone. Even if he could not recognize when the Chara was serious, he knew when I was. In a low voice, I said, "Certain facts you would be wise to understand very quickly. I may add that such understanding would not only be wise but might preserve your career in the council. One fact is that, when the Chara makes his wishes known, it is not your place to argue with him." 

James lifted his chin, and I saw his jaw grow firm. "I know the law, Lord Carle. The Chara's subjects have the right to disagree with him as long as he does not issue a direct command. He did not give me a command, only a request." 

"The Chara does not issue commands unless he is forced to. He knows that if men such as you are foolish enough not to recognize the difference between his personal whims and his wishes as the Chara, then you may also be foolish enough to misunderstand his order. And if you know the law, then you know why he would not want to risk having you disobey his direct command." 

James's expression grew more set. "I think that the Chara would cause fewer misunderstandings if he would phrase his requests as requests and his commands as commands. I would rather be commanded than not know what it is that he wants." 

"I will be glad to give you whatever you wish, Lord James." The remark came from Peter, standing in front of the door he had just opened. He was holding in his hands a bowl of nuts. 

Perhaps it was the informality of the nuts that caused James to continue sitting where he was. I stood immediately, and watched as Peter stepped lightly over to the bookcase and turned his back on us to place the bowl on a waist-high ledge there. For a moment he lingered; then he turned. 

My gaze was now focussed on James. I decided it was a shame that James had not chosen to join one of the Chara's armies, for I imagined he would have been fearless in battle. I saw the blood drain from his face, and his fingers suddenly gripped the stem of his cup, but otherwise he made no movement or noise. 

With great reluctance, I forced myself to look back at the Chara. A mask, he had called it a while ago, and I could see that his face indeed resembled the Jackal's god-mask. The lines of his face were rigid, as though his flesh had turned to stone; their curve was severe and formal. Only his eyes had the ability to vary. Now, for James's benefit, they were cold and hostile. 

James had risen to his feet. I rated this as a measure of his strength, for it took much effort to move when the Chara looked upon one in that manner. The Chara spoke, his voice without any gentleness now to sheathe his blade of authority: "Come here." 

James came forward, and as he did, I moved to the far corner of the room, near the main door, where I could watch both faces. James progressed as far as the midway point between himself and the Chara before he stopped. 

"Closer." The Chara had not looked my way since this began. I knew that the only reason James had not dropped his gaze was because it was being held captive by the Chara's. James continued forward until he was a body's length from the Chara, and then stopped uncertainly. I saw him swallow, and his fists were clenched, but his chin was still lifted as though he were an unrepentant prisoner facing his judge. 

"Lord James," said the Chara, speaking softly the formal words that the direct command requires: "Let me be clear. You are not to investigate further the matter that we have discussed, nor are you to persuade anyone else to investigate it further, unless instructed to do so by Carle, High Lord of the Great Council. If you do so, you will be brought to the Court of Judgment and tried on the charge of disobeying the Chara. If I judge that you have willfully and with clear understanding disobeyed this command, then I will sentence you to the high doom of death by the sword. Do you understand?" 

The direct command does not require that the Chara list the penalty for disobedience; I knew that he had added this for James's sake. His courtesy had its effect. James's chin wavered, then lowered, though he did not try to shift his gaze. He said, with only the slightest tremble to his voice, "I understand, Chara." 

"Good." The Chara held James's gaze for a moment longer; then he turned back to the nuts. He did not linger this time – Peter had always found it easier to abandon his role as the Chara than to embrace it – but instead turned straight round. Passing James, he walked back to offer me the bowl. His face was normal once more. 

"Thank you, Chara," I murmured. Even though I had not endured the disciplining myself, I was not immune to the effects of the Chara in judgment and did not feel that I could raise my voice any higher. Peter gave a faint smile. Turning, he went back to where James was standing rooted and offered him the bowl, saying, "Would you care for some nuts, James?" 

James dug his fingers into the bowl immediately, as though he expected the executioner to be summoned if he showed any hesitancy. Peter's smile deepened, but he made no comment until he had returned to stand by the ledge again. Then he said to James, "I'm sorry. I made it harder on you than I had to, I think. I assumed that you had seen me in the court." 

"No, Chara." James had picked out only one nut; he was rolling it between his fingers as he stared at Peter. He added rapidly, "I have not had time to visit there since my arrival." 

Peter looked my way. "Carle, can you spare James from his duties tomorrow morning?" 

"Not all morning, but I can spare him between the fifth trumpet and noonday." 

Peter looked back at James. "I'd suggest that you come watch me in the court tomorrow. It's only a suggestion, but such a visit would help you to understand the difference between the Chara and the lesser judges. If you had seen me in judgment, I might not have had to invoke my full authority over you just now – though it's hard to say. Carle curses me for being too informal in my private life, but I've never regarded that as a problem, except in cases like this, where I've obviously slipped and allowed one of my subjects to misunderstand our relationship. The last thing I want is to be surrounded by people who are afraid to disagree with me, but it is important for you to understand that, however fond I may be of my acquaintances, I am still master to you and everyone else in this land." 

James did not reply. He was continuing to roll the nut in his hand, which caused Peter to smile and say, "James, if you hate nuts, you needn't eat that." 

"Oh, I was just interested in what you were saying." James's face-color had returned, and he spoke calmly. "It's a bit like that even for the lesser judges. I had to place a friend of mine under judgment once, and it was a terrible experience for us both." 

"I had forgotten that you were a village judge." Peter walked over and eased himself back into his old seat, picking up his forgotten cup of wine. James cast his gaze back at a chair behind him, but lost his nerve and remained standing. Peter asked, "Why was it that you chose to do council work rather than seek to become a higher-ranked judge?" 

"I had experience with both back home. When you have only twenty free-men in a village, everyone does double duty. Besides—" James hesitated, looking my way, and then phrased his next sentence carefully. "I considered that the Great Council deals with higher matters than even the city court handles. I wanted to be in a position of leadership." 

There was a pause, and I waited to see how Peter would respond to this statement of ambition. The silence was broken by a knock, though. One of the Chara's guards slipped inside, closed the door, and said, "Your pardon, Chara. The Koretian Ambassador has arrived and wishes to see you." 

Peter frowned. "Not tonight, I hope. Heart of Mercy, it's good to see a dedicated ambassador, but I'm not going to start negotiations at this hour. Give my apologies to him and say that I'll speak with him before the court tomorrow." 

The guard hesitated before saying, "You may wish to speak with him now, Chara." 

Peter sighed and rose to his feet. "Very well. Show him in." He added to James as the guard left, "Emmett has been with me for twenty years. He knows better than I do who I want to see." 

The door opened wide and the guard stepped inside, then to one side, announcing in a loud voice, "Great Chara, I bring you the Ambassador of Koretia." 

A man walked into the room. At first sight of him, I stepped further back into my corner, where the shadows hid me; as a result, I had a good side view of the visitor. The Ambassador was in his middle years, just a few years younger than the Chara, though a less careful observer than myself might have thought from his appearance that he was a young man. It was clear from the way he held himself that he rarely allowed his carriage and expression to relax from formality. He had dark hair which matched that of Peter's wife, but unlike Ursula, who was only half Koretian, his skin was also dark. In contrast to most Koretians, he was beardless. He wore a dusky grey tunic with no decoration but for a faint glimmer above his heart. I knew this to be a god-mask badge, which the Koretians wear in order to place themselves under the protection of a god. Koretians are not complete fools, however, and they guarantee their protection in other manners as well. I could see sticking back from the Ambassador's hidden right side the carved bone sheath of a dagger. 

The Ambassador said softly, "Greetings, Chara. I come at the command of the Jackal, who asks that you receive me in peace, as he has taken a peace oath toward your land so that we might discuss our differences." 

Peter was standing with the still formality of the Chara receiving his guest. He said, in the words dictated by law, "You are welcome, Ambassador. I accept the Jackal's oath, and vow on the pendant with which I judge that no harm shall come to you or your people while you stay in this land." His eyes flicked over toward the guard. 

The guard took the hint and left, closing the door behind him. For a moment more, Peter remained silent – this was a trick I had taught him, since I had discovered, to my own grief, that it is easy to misjudge the timing of when the door closes and all sound is cut off. 

Then a smile crept onto his face, and his eyes grew light. 

Peter said, "Well, it's about time you came back, Andrew."


	2. Introduction of Terms | 2

**CHAPTER TWO**  
**986 a.g.l.**  


> _The Introduction of Terms is a phrase that will be familiar to students who have an army background, since the same phrase describes the passage introducing the terms of a peace settlement. This consists of a list of grievances between the two parties at war, though these grievances are often hinted at rather than stated outright. In the law, the Introduction hints at the "grievance" or Justification by describing the relative gravity of the crime. It usually does this by stating that the crime is "more grave" than the preceding crime or crimes. As in war, however, it is sometimes difficult to determine the relative gravity of two grievances when they appear unrelated to each other._

  
o—o—o

The Chara's former servant gave no reply, not even a smile, but his eyes remained fixed on Peter's in a manner that would have been insolent had anyone else looked at the Chara in such a manner. I glanced at James. He was still rolling the nut in his hand, and he looked over at me speculatively. 

Thus I missed the moment when the Chara and the Ambassador stepped forward and embraced. By the time I looked back, Peter was holding Andrew at an arm's length, saying, "How long has it been? Eight years? Nine?" 

"Ten years, Chara," replied Andrew. He was still carrying himself in the formal pose with which he had entered the room. 

"Not so long that you've forgotten my name, I hope. How is John?" 

From where I stood, I could not see Andrew's eyes, but I heard a warmth enter into his voice as he said, "The Jackal is overworked and weary – he seems to be modelling himself on the Chara. He sends his private greetings and the message that he hopes he has found you an ambassador who has sufficient knowledge of Emorian ways." 

Peter smiled again. "If you didn't before, I'm sure that you've acquired it by now. I understand that you've been imitating me and spending much of your time at the law books. In fact, I'd contemplated asking John to send you here, but I thought it would be selfish of me to wrench you back from Koretia after your long stay away from that land." 

"Strange as it may seem, I requested this assignment from the Jackal, as I had become homesick for the Chara's palace. It is good to be back." 

A rattling sound rang through the air as James dropped the nut, which skipped its way across the tiles. James knelt down to retrieve it, like a boy playing at marbles, and Andrew looked his way. 

"My apologies," said Peter. "I'm being a poor host. James, this is my friend Andrew, of whom I spoke earlier. Andrew, this is James, our newest council lord." 

"Newest and youngest." James shoved the nut into the inner pocket of his boot and stood up, grinning. "The answer to your unspoken question, sir, is that I am fifteen years old." 

"I was only sixteen when I became Chara," said Peter. "To my knowledge, the empire did not crumble as a result, though looking back on it now, I'm surprised that it didn't." 

"I am pleased to meet you, Ambassador," James added. "I hope that you may be able to help me learn more about your land if you have time while you are here, as I have been revealing my ignorance of Koretia to the others here tonight." 

Andrew nodded his head in answer. Peter, his eyes suddenly alert, said in a seemingly placid manner, "And of course you know Lord Carle." 

Andrew's gaze switched over to me with the unerring accuracy of an arrow whose shot has been well aligned, and so I knew that he had been aware of my presence all along. As I met his gaze, I realized that one thing had changed since we last met: he had learned to guard his dark eyes even from me. 

"Indeed," he said. "I must congratulate you on your elevation, Lord Carle. I understand that the council has found a High Lord to lead it who has proved as worthy as Lord Dean." 

Since my predecessor had been a cunning schemer whose death from old age had saved the Chara from another decade of thinly veiled blackmail, I could take this remark in only one way. I stepped out of the shadows. With as much ceremony as I would show in the court, I touched my heart and then my forehead with the fingers of my right hand. 

Something flickered behind Andrew's guard. He knew well that I rarely made the free-man's greeting, for the simple reason that such a greeting is exchanged only between free-men who are equal in rank. In the Chara's palace, there live but thirty council lords, while foreign council lords almost never visit Emor. On rare occasions I would meet one of the many honorary lords who are scattered throughout the empire and in the nations beyond, but the law has always remained ambiguous as to these men's exact status. This being the case, I might greet them as equals or not, as my whimsy took me. 

I would sooner have spent my days with the Chara's torturers than ever have greeted Andrew as an equal, but I knew that he would have the greater victory if he was able to flaunt his new status first. 

"And I must congratulate you in turn, Lord Andrew," I said. "I am sure that your knowledge of Emorian ways has proved invaluable to the Jackal." 

Peter gave a badly suppressed sigh. Andrew continued to gaze at me with the cool, arrogant look he had never lost since the day we first met. He did not reply to my accusation, and he made me wait a considerable amount of time before replying calmly, "Thank you, Lord Carle. But I am not a council lord; my title is purely honorary." 

"As mine was, back in the days when I was Lord Peter," said the Chara, obviously trying to ally himself with Andrew in this battle. 

So we were back to our old relationship again: Andrew slicing me open with his insults, I defending myself, and Andrew finding a way to turn my thrusts back on me. Nothing had changed in our twenty-five years of enmity. 

Andrew turned away suddenly, as though dismissing me as trivial, and said to Peter, "But you attended council meetings when you were young, did you not?" 

"Only as an observer, and only because my father compelled me to. I was never able to feel at home with the slow, cautious manner in which the council reaches its decisions. It's so unlike the swift judgments I'm required to make in my work." 

"I cannot say that the council's conventional manner of working is to my taste either," interjected James. With the nut safely in his boot, he had grasped the nearest object handy, which happened to be his sword, and was using it to carefully tear small holes in a scrap of paper he had found. "In the midst of a lengthy discussion on town boundaries yesterday, I had a great desire to leap up onto the table and say, 'Enough! This is what we are going to do, and I know it is right because I once spent eight hours discussing this law with a town judge.' But I somehow sensed that it was not the custom for junior council lords to make such remarks, so I kept my thoughts to myself." As Peter laughed, James added, "I am curious to know why the Jackal chose to make Lord Andrew's title honorary." 

"I cannot be a Koretian council lord because I am not Koretian," replied Andrew. 

"It seems to me I have heard those words before," I said. "I hope for the Jackal's sake that you are not calling yourself Emorian these days." 

Peter put a hand to the emblem brooch at his neck, as though he had acquired James's itch for movement. Andrew looked my way once more with his infuriatingly calm gaze as he said, "The Jackal understands that I cannot make an oath to him or any other man, as my allegiance can only be to the Unknowable God." 

"It must be convenient to have no master except a god who speaks in riddles. I suppose that you are now the one who interprets what those riddles mean." 

Peter said hastily, "Andrew, have a seat; I know that your journey was long. I must say that it does sound to me as though you're trespassing on John's territory." 

Andrew took the chair that Peter had been sitting in before his arrival, while Peter went over to stand by the bookcase. Since the Chara was standing, I remained standing. James, after looking Peter's way for permission, sat down once more. 

Andrew said with less stiffness, "I think I can promise you, Peter, that I will never terrify us both by speaking in the voice of the god. The god speaks to me and through me in a more subtle fashion than he ever did the Jackal. In any case, the Jackal was unmasked ten years ago, and since that time John has rarely worn the god's face except when sitting in judgment. John says that this is because the Jackal now rules over a single land, and the Unknowable God is the ruler of all lands. That is why John has adopted the Jackal's mask as his seal, rather than the mask of the Unknowable God that he wears on his tunic." 

"And that you also wear," said Peter. 

Andrew briefly touched the tiny god-mask at his chest. I could now see that it was completely black, empty of any face markings. "I do find it strange that our roles are reversed. When John and I were boys, he was the visionary, while I was the one who dealt with matters of the flesh. But the god has given me only tasks that I can manage with my native powers." 

"Fascinating as this discussion of Koretian religion is," I said, "I think we are all familiar with the obscure manner in which the Koretian gods work." 

"Well, I am not," said James. "Ambassador, I told you that I know little about Koretia. I know from what the Chara said earlier that the Jackal is – well, is connected with a god. But who is the Unknowable God?" 

Andrew's voice until this point had been restrained and clipped. Now it took on a lighter tone. "The Unknowable God is a mystery. He is the mystery behind the mysteriousness of the gods who speak to us in human tongue. He is the friend who seems so familiar to us that we would swear he had been with us since the day we first entered this world, yet he is also the stranger whose face remains hidden." 

James's gaze drifted over to Peter, standing by the law books, and then back to Andrew again. "I know what you mean, Ambassador. I felt the same way when I first began to study the law, as though I had stumbled upon something I had always known, yet which I would never really know. It shook me considerably to find myself dealing with such high matters, as though I were touching red-hot fire." 

There was a silence; something was exchanged in the gazes of James and Andrew, and then Andrew said, "Peter, wherever did you find such a wise council lord?" 

James laughed. "My origins are humble, Ambassador. My father was a village baron, and I am his eldest son, though I have happily abandoned guardianship of the village to my younger brother. My home is at Lone Bay Beach in Surgano, about as far from civilization as you can get without tipping off the edge of the world." 

"I somehow guessed that your origins were, as Lord Carle would put it, barbaric. You could pass very well for a Koretian." 

"Don't try to lure my new recruit off to Koretia, Andrew," said the Chara. "He has quite a lot of Emorian in him as well. His knowledge of the law is nearly as good as my own, which is not surprising, as he seems to have spent his childhood much as I did, reading law book after law book. However, I didn't have to find time for my studies in between helping to care for a village, not to mention helping supervise the sea harvest. Nor did I have to save up my gold coins to buy law books from travelling peddlers. With such energetic beginnings, I expect a bright future for James." 

"How did you manage to make your way from Lone Bay Beach to the Chara's palace?" Andrew asked James. 

"Lord Carle brought me here." 

Andrew looked back at me, paused, and said, "That was generous of Lord Carle." 

I said, "It required no generosity on my part. I was fortunate enough to be at the Surgano town court on a day when Lord James was a witness. The judge is an old acquaintance of mine and learned in the law, but he found himself having to consult Lord James on many details. Like the Chara, I was impressed by Lord James's knowledge, and though our young lord is of course inexperienced, I too see promise in him. He came to our notice at an apt time; we were having difficulty selecting a new council lord who would have even minimal knowledge of the law. The law seems to be a matter of little interest to this generation." 

"Finding a good council lord is always a problem," said Peter, looking at me approvingly. "One of my first memories is of my father cursing because he and his High Lord had chosen a new council lord who proved to be incompetent. And of course there was nothing they could do about it, since the Chara and the High Lord cannot remove a lord from his council chair unless he is charged with a crime." 

"Charged, or judged guilty?" asked James. 

"Charged," I said firmly. "So it would be wise to avoid bending the law in any way while you are a lord." 

James bit his lip and thrust the sword once more into the paper, so vigorously that it ripped in half. Andrew had been watching the two of us. He said to James, "I know that look of Lord Carle's. May I assume that you, like I, interpret the law in a flexible manner?" 

James looked up with a sheepish smile, like a boy who has just been scolded but has found someone to protect him. "Lord Carle and I certainly disagree on how mutable the law is. In particular, we disagree on whether new laws should be created that affect the division of powers between the Chara and his council." 

A pause followed that to James must have seemed quite ordinary, but to me was akin to the silence on a battlefield in the moments before a charge. Andrew exchanged glances with Peter, whose expression had grown serious but who gave no indication that he would interfere at this point. Finally Andrew broke the silence by saying, "I would be interested in hearing your opinion on the subject." 

James hesitated, looking toward Peter. The Chara said, "I too would be interested in hearing your full opinion, since hitherto we have discussed only particular cases." 

James murmured, "I'm not sure how much the Ambassador knows about Emorian law." 

"Begin at the law-structure, as my tutor used to say," Peter suggested. "There are certain vital ways in which Koretian law presently differs from Emorian law, so you may pretend that we are schoolboys who need to be instructed from the start." 

"Well, then," said James, "Emorian law begins with the law-structure – the law was founded on that. The law-structure describes in general terms the powers and actions of the Chara and his council. Later came the division of powers, which describes who gets which powers, the Chara or the council. Most of the powers, of course, are reserved for the Chara." 

"Of course," said Andrew, keeping his gaze carefully focussed on James. 

"The rest of the laws are derived from the Chara's court judgments," said James. "The Chara is High Judge of the land; he not only judges those under his immediate care but also confirms or rejects the important cases in the lesser courts. In cases where the law does not already describe what should be done, the Chara uses the law-structure and the division of powers to add to the law." 

"An example?" Peter's eyes gleamed as he looked over at me. He was enjoying taking on the role of tutor. 

James had been addressing Andrew all this while. Now his gaze drifted over toward Peter and he said quietly, "The Law of Grave Iniquity. This is the oldest law, covering the crime of disobedience to the Chara. Over the centuries, the Chara's judgments have gradually come to delineate exactly what constitutes disobedience. Whenever new instances of disobedience are decided by the Chara, they are added to new versions of the law books by the court clerk." 

Peter's expression grew more somber. "And what is the one other manner in which laws can be passed?" 

James took a deep breath. "I was coming to that. That is where my disagreement lies with – with Lord Carle." He looked back quickly toward Andrew. "In his court cases, the Chara must use both the law-structure and the division of powers to make his judgment. But the law-structure must be pre-eminent, and there are occasionally cases where the Chara comes to feel that the law-structure makes it impossible for him to remain faithful to the division of powers in that particular instance." 

"And an example of that?" Peter succeeded in keeping his voice suitably neutral. 

"The Chara Nicholas had a series of cases where he was judging the free-servants of his own household – most of the palace servants serve the Chara." James stopped uncertainly, remembering to whom he was addressing his remarks. Andrew kept his gaze squarely on James, and after a moment the young lord continued, "The law-structure says that it is better for the judge and witness to be separate, and these were cases where the Chara was both judge and witness to the crime. So eventually the Chara decided to depart from the division of powers, which says that the Chara judges all those under his immediate care. Instead, he bound over to his council the right to judge the palace free-servants. He did this by proclamation, the only way in which he can depart from the division of powers." 

"And your opinion is that this sort of thing ought to happen more often?" asked Andrew. 

"Well, I can see cases where the law-structure has been so gravely departed from that the division of powers needs to be changed. Either the Chara should be given powers that the council has or the council should be given powers that the Chara has." James ended in a rush as he looked over at Peter, who was as expressionless as the Ambassador. The Chara's right hand had disappeared behind his back, a telling sign of stress. 

"Peter, are you sure you don't want to issue a proclamation right now that will allow me to conduct my negotiations with the council?" asked Andrew. "I can promise you that, if Lord James takes part in the talks, we will come to an agreement quickly." 

Peter broke the tension by laughing. James said, "New as I am to the council, Chara, I have not yet had time to learn about the Koretian troubles. What is the nature of our dispute with the Jackal?" 

Peter pushed himself up onto the ledge of the bookcase. With relief, I seated myself. He looked my way briefly before saying, "James, show mercy to me by ceasing to imitate Lord Carle in one respect. Please do not address me privately by my title, as Carle has done since the day I was born – my name is Peter. As for the dispute, I think that you may find it of particular interest. It concerns an Emorian captain who was tried on serious charges in Koretia last year. I allowed the charges to be brought against him in Koretia rather than Emor because it was my understanding that the Koretian system of judgment remained the same as Emor's. That was part of the peace settlement between our two lands. However, after the captain was found innocent by a town judge, the town councilmen overruled the judgment." 

" _Overruled_ it?" James's mouth hung open for a moment. Then he asked, "How could they do that?" 

"By their dedication to the law-structure at the expense of the division of powers," I said dryly. "You may recall that the law-structure says that council lords must be well-balanced in their judgment. That is the basis for the law that penalizes council lords who have become ill-balanced in judgment – that is, who have misused their powers. The town council said that this gave them the right to penalize the judge, whom they believed had misused his powers in deciding the case. Apparently, the judge owed special favors to the captain." 

"But if this case then went to the High Judge— Is the Jackal the Koretian High Judge?" James asked Andrew. 

Andrew nodded but remained silent. It was left to Peter to say, "The Jackal did not reject the court decision. He issued a proclamation binding over to the councils of his land the right to overrule judges who misuse their powers. One of those judges is of course himself. The Koretian council now has the right to overrule any judgment made by the Jackal." 

"If the Jackal misuses his powers," added Andrew. 

James had stopped looking astonished at this tremendous change in the law. Now he was thoughtfully regarding Peter. "And you were not happy with this decision?" 

"I was not," said Peter shortly. "I placed my protest with the Jackal, but he has refused to reverse the proclamation. Since this remains a dangerous difference of opinion between our lands, Emor has continued to challenge the court ruling." 

"In other words, you have threatened war," said Andrew. 

"The threats have not been entirely on one side," said Peter, "but I am sure that the Jackal realizes how much Koretia has to lose if he declares war." 

"The Jackal is a peacemaker, as you know," said Andrew softly, "but when he hunts, he hunts in earnest, and I do not think that Koretia is the land which has the most to fear if our talks fail." 

"Are you beginning our negotiations tonight?" 

"No, Chara. I am simply reminding you of what you already know." 

Peter smiled again, and for the first time there was a chill to his smile. "Ambassador, there is no need to try to scare me. I haven't forgotten what the Jackal is like with his claws unsheathed – as you know, since you were the one to introduce us." 

James, who had been absentmindedly stabbing at the paper once again, drew suddenly still. Andrew had been staring evenly at Peter; now he lowered his gaze, and there was a silence. Peter's own gaze wavered, and I think that he would have spoken again, but I quickly said, "Oh, I doubt that the Ambassador need invoke the name of the Jackal to deliver threats. He has his own methods of carrying danger wherever he goes. I see, Lord Andrew, that you are wearing a free-man's weapon once more. May I ask whether you have had the opportunity to grow more skilled in its use?" 

Andrew's eyes flew up to meet mine. The new guard in his expression was gone, and the old rage blazed there. His voice, though, was composed as he said, "You may recall that, shortly after the peace settlement, a group of Koretians plotted to kill the Emorian court officials who remained in the land. The Jackal did not wish to exacerbate matters by sending out his army, since most of the soldiers were still Emorian at that time. So he called once more to the men and women who had helped him to gain his throne: the Jackal's thieves. The thieves made it their business to discover who was involved in the plot and when it would take place. Then, on the day of the uprising, the thieves were there to protect the Emorians. I was one of the thieves; that is when I armed myself again. If you have any other questions about my abilities with this dagger, I would be happy to answer your questions in private." 

"Lord Andrew . . . Lord Carle . . . I would greatly appreciate it if you would not spill blood on my sitting-chamber rug." It was the Chara. The chill that had been in his smile had travelled to his voice. "I would also appreciate it if you would keep in mind that the fate of two lands hangs upon your behavior toward each other. It is not simply a single man whom I will have to place under the high doom if one of you kills the other." 

I opened my mouth to speak, but Andrew was already saying, "Lord Carle, I apologize; the long journey has tired me. I did not mean to reopen old wounds." 

"If I have given offense, I too apologize," I said. I spoke in the direction of Andrew, but my apology was for the Chara. I was not deceived by Andrew's smooth attempt to regain the Chara's trust. 

Peter said in a more relaxed manner, "Well, thank the wisdom of the Charas that you are _not_ negotiating with the council, Andrew, or I think war would break out tomorrow. Did you have a hard journey?" 

Rusty metal creaked, and a slender figure appeared at the door to the Chara's sleeping chamber. She had an unfastened gown hastily flung over her shift, and she was blinking in the light. "Peter?" she said. "I thought I heard . . ." 

Ursula stopped, and her face went white. Peter stood up, as did I, stepping back into the shadows once more. Andrew had already risen rigidly. She stared dazedly at him for a moment, as though in fear. I could not see Andrew's expression, but after a moment he held out his arms, and Ursula's smile broke through like sunshine through dark clouds. She flung herself into his arms. 

James's sword clattered as it fell to the ground. The young council lord stood and looked uncertainly at Peter, who had made no move to interfere, but instead was watching with a smile on his face. The sword's crash attracted the attention of Ursula, who looked over Andrew's shoulder at James and laughed. "Lord James, have no fear; this is not some old lover of mine. He is my brother." 

"Your brother?" James continued to stare as Andrew held Ursula lightly in his arms. The Consort's eyes were now closed. I managed to attract James's attention and beckon him to the door. The young council lord came obediently, but his gaze remained focussed on the Koretian man and half-Koretian woman. Peter acknowledged our departure with a silent lift of the eyebrows, and then we were out in the corridor once more. 

"Her brother?" As we stood in front of the Chara's doorway, James's rising voice echoed down the empty corridor and attracted the attention of the court clerk, who was sleepily making his way home to bed. James quickly lowered his voice. "I thought that Lady Ursula was the ward of the Jackal." 

"Yes, and the Jackal is Lord Andrew's blood brother," I replied, keeping my voice equally low. James's quarters lay beyond the Court of Judgment, in the opposite direction of mine, but he followed me as I turned to the right. We began to walk down the corridor, which was grey with nighttime torch smoke. "Lord Andrew and Lady Ursula share the same mother; Lady Ursula's father was an Emorian soldier. The Jackal raised Lady Ursula after her mother's death, and Lord Andrew himself was not aware of his sister's existence until they met briefly during our stay in Koretia ten years ago. Lady Ursula scarcely knows her brother at all." 

"I thought the two of them seemed oddly restrained in their greetings at first. I had never known this about the Chara's Consort." 

"Only the council and a few palace officials know," I replied. I added dryly, "The Chara followed my advice to keep silent on the matter. He could see for himself that it would not do for his subjects to realize that the Chara's wife is half-sister to a former palace slave." 

James was silent for a moment. The sound of our footsteps rebounded down the corridor, skipping from wall to wall like a pebble; their echo was only obscured by the hissing of fire on the damp torch-wood. We passed the door to the slave-quarters, guarded and locked for the night. 

"I hadn't realized that Lord Andrew was a slave-servant before he became a free-servant," James said. "I suppose that if he came to Emor as a boy, the Chara Peter was not the one who bought him for palace service – was it his father?" 

The smoke grew thicker. Directly ahead of us lay the Map Room, with its great silver doors lined on both sides by guards and torches. I said, "Lord Andrew had already been living in the palace for three years when the Chara Nicholas bought him at his son's urging. It was I who sold Andrew to the Chara." 

"Ah." James's voice was very quiet. For once his hand had stopped fiddling with his sword. "That explains much of what went on in the Chara's quarters just now. Have you always been at war with Lord Andrew?" 

We stopped at my quarters. I opened the door and stepped inside before turning round to say, "Lord Andrew was a difficult slave-servant to master. Our relationship became even more strained, though, after he tried to kill me eleven years ago." 

James's boyish mannerisms had disappeared; he was as quiet and watchful now as he always behaved in council meetings. "Why did he try to kill you?" he asked. 

"Lord Andrew and I had a dispute over the best manner in which to be loyal to one's master. I accused him – truthfully – of disobeying the Chara's direct command. Lord Andrew has never been skilled at obedience." 

James stared at me levelly for a moment before saying, "I have heard of how you discipline your servants, Lord Carle. If you had been my master when I was a boy, I doubt that I would have been skilled at obedience either." 

I swung the door forward so that only a hand's length remained open between myself and the young council lord. "Since I was not your master, I can only hope that you have learned those skills in my absence. Obedience and respect for the law are of the utmost importance in being a loyal servant to the Chara, as you would do well to remember if you expect to rise in the council." 

James replied calmly, "I expect to rise, whether or not my views on such matters coincide with yours, Lord Carle. _You_ would do well to remember that." And he took my own door from my hand, and firmly shut it in my face. 

o—o—o

The following morning found me sitting in the council library, trying to determine whether the law could be stretched to allow the council to negotiate with ambassadors. 

I was not unaware of the irony of the situation. I knew, however, that Peter's reluctance to allow James to research the matter derived mainly from his uncertainty as to James's motives. There exists a long-standing struggle of power between the Chara and his council, dating back to Emor's beginnings. Indeed, the records show that in early times the Chara often had to wage war in order to force the council to accept his judgments. A biased observer such as myself would say that the only reason such wars ended was because the Chara won permanent victory over his council and bonded it into servitude to himself. But the Chara proved to be a kind master, and his division of powers allowed the council independence in certain high matters, so that even those lords who wished to increase the council's powers had never suggested that the Chara give up his hard-earned right to pass judgments as he pleased. 

Peter, I knew, would have no worries about my motives, and he would not be disturbed by my checking on his interpretation of the law. But I had uncovered very few cases over the years where the Chara had gone astray in his reading of the law, and this was not one of them. So I had just concluded when the porter arrived in the library and announced that Lady Ursula was requesting admittance to the council quarters. 

"You ought to have admitted her at once," I said with irritation. A few years earlier, the council had been forced to dismiss its previous porter, a timid man who could not carry his rod of discipline with confidence. I was not pleased to find incompetence in our new one. 

"I did, Lord Carle, but she refuses to enter except with permission of the High Lord." The man looked harassed; I imagined that he had been trying without success to assault Ursula's sweet stubbornness. I hid a smile and followed the porter back through the Council Chamber to the ceiling-high doors that are of fortress strength. Even at the time the chamber was built, four hundred years ago, the council had sometimes wished to bar the door against the Chara and his guards. 

Ursula appeared diminutive in the great doorway. This caused me to realize that I had never seen the Chara's Consort on the council's side of the palace. I said gently to her, "You are always welcome, Lady Ursula. There is no need for you to ask special permission to enter here." 

"I wasn't sure." Ursula generally possessed great poise, considering her common origins, but now her fingers were twisted around the cloth of her gown. "The Chara has always impressed on me the importance of following palace custom, and I know that he isn't allowed in this chamber except as the council's guest." 

I knew that her use of Peter's title was for the benefit of the guards standing at the doorway. I therefore waved her in and began walking with her toward the nearest side chamber of the council quarters, which was the discussion room. "That custom applies only during council meetings," I said. "The Chara and his Consort are free to come here whenever they wish at other times. Am I the man to whom you wished to speak?" 

Ursula nodded, but she said nothing more until we had entered the room and I shut the door. I saw her eyeing the maps that were scattered on the table before us, and I thought that she would ask me about them, but instead she said, "I came to ask a favor, not for myself, but for Peter." 

I waited. I had not had many chances to speak with Ursula since her arrival at the palace ten years before. Peter kept her close to his side, but he was a man who did not intrude his marriage into his friendships, so he did not bring Ursula to our late-night conversations. For the first time it occurred to me to wonder how the Chara's Consort occupied herself when Peter was entertaining friends. 

Ursula had paused a long while. Now she said in a rush, "After you left last night, Peter went to the Map Room and spent the entire night there." 

"I suppose that he wanted to allow you and your brother a chance to talk privately." 

"That wasn't the reason. Andrew didn't stay long; he was tired from his journey. In any case, Peter has spent many nights recently in the Map Room." 

This was delicate territory; I had no wish to discuss Peter's bedding arrangements with his wife. But Ursula struck me as a sensible enough woman that I assumed she had good reason for raising the topic. I said, "The Chara's father used to sleep in the Map Room when he was working on difficult problems. Of course—" I hesitated, but there was really no way I could discuss this subject without making reference to private matters. "The Chara Nicholas was of course a widower. But I am sure you realize that your husband must sometimes put his duty before his private life." 

Ursula smiled suddenly. "Carle, you needn't worry that I think of Peter's work as his mistress." I was tongue-tied at this bold reply, but Ursula was already continuing, "I'm just worried that Peter is _not_ sleeping when he's in the Map Room. I wish that you would talk to him and ask him to take better care of his health. You must have noticed the palace physician at our doorway yesterday; I know therefore that I'm breaking no secrets in mentioning this to you. Peter wouldn't listen to the physician, but he will listen to you, since you're his friend." 

"I am not sure that it would be wise for me to raise such an issue myself, Lady Ursula. But I promise you that if the Chara mentions the subject to me, I will certainly remind him that, in addition to his duties toward the land, he has duties toward his own person." 

Ursula nodded as her gaze drifted down to a browning map that hung over the edge of the table. Her fingers reached over to touch it. "This is Koretia, isn't it?" 

"Yes." I walked over to stand by her so that I could see the map better. "Yes, the Chara had that map made shortly before his last visit to our southern neighbor." I watched as her fingers wandered over to the largest feature on the map: the Koretian capital, where she had spent her childhood. I took time to formulate what I should say before adding, "Perhaps, since your brother is here, he could intervene with the Chara. I believe that he is more used to discussing such issues with the Chara than I am." 

"I don't know Andrew very well yet. I'm not sure how to ask him." Ursula's fingers slid off the map. 

I was thinking that I knew Andrew well enough to ask, and that the two of us together might succeed in persuading the Chara to take better care of himself. But it would require a crisis more serious than a few nights' worth of lost sleep for me to ally myself with Andrew. 

Even so, the thought of Peter lingered in my mind long after Ursula had departed, saying that Peter liked her to be in his quarters at noonday in case he had the opportunity to visit there before his afternoon duties. I had duties of my own to finish that morning, but after a while I left the council quarters and walked toward the Court of Judgment. 

I was too late. Before I arrived, the palace trumpets had blown six times to herald the noonday hour, and by the time I reached the court doors, people were already streaming out, discussing the cases of the day. 

Amidst the crowd I happened upon James, who had just made his way down from the balcony reserved for the council lords. He was absorbed in thought and did not notice me beside him until he turned north to head back toward the Council Chamber. 

"Will you join me for the noonday meal, Lord James?" I asked. "I was planning to eat in my quarters." 

He looked pleased but merely nodded, as though his mind was still far away. He turned, and we began to walk down the southern corridor, passing on our way the court clerk, who was struggling to keep a pile of judgment documents balanced. A breeze from the windows above knocked the top sheets off, and James stooped to help the clerk. The clerk looked at me nervously. He was a competent man and had done good work in his post for the past eleven years, but I had an old grievance with him, and he knew it. 

Still, that was a private matter, and his dutiful allegiance to the Chara was a model for the other court officials, so I silently helped to fetch one of the documents that was in danger of being trod upon by the Emorian subcommander's orderly, who was swaggering down the corridor. 

Once James and I were on our way again, I surmised that he had enough awareness of my presence for me to ask, "Did you find the court helpful in your quest for knowledge of the law?" 

He cast me a guarded look. I saw that he would not be sharing his thoughts with me. Instead he asked, "Why does the Chara hold the pendant in that manner when he pronounces judgment?" 

"I don't suppose that in a village court you had much opportunity for symbolism, but you will find that life in the palace is largely ceremonial. The Chara holds the Pendant of Judgment to his heart to symbolize the Heart of Mercy; he places it upon his lips to represent the Sword of Vengeance, for vengeance of the sword is preceded by vengeance of the word; and he touches the pendant above his eyes to signify that it is through his spirit's sight that he determines the Balance of Judgment. Which was it today, mercy or vengeance?" 

James remained silent as he shouldered his way through a cluster of young scribes pouring out from the court clerk's quarters. Then he said, "Vengeance. There were three cases, and the Chara found all three men guilty and sentenced them to punishment." 

"The court summoners often cluster together cases where the evidence is clear, so that the executioner can be at hand if there are several cases involving the high doom. None today, I imagine?" 

James shook his head. I opened the door to my quarters and ushered him in. My free-servant leapt up as we turned the corner into the main passage of my quarters; he had been sitting by the dining-chamber door, ready to start service. 

I have been lucky with my servants over the years, or perhaps it is less luck than proper training, for word travels fast in the palace that I will not allow sloppy work in my quarters. Even the slaves, who have no initial reason to serve me well, aside from fear, soon learn that I am a master who rewards good work. 

I could see as we proceeded through our meal that this was news to James. My reputation for fierce discipline, which I have encouraged to spread, has not been accompanied by my equal reputation among my own servants for just and sometimes merciful actions. Thus I said nothing when, after the meal, the slave-servant pouring my wine shook slightly in his task, so that the wine spilled over into the water glass next to it. The slave in question was still recovering from a spell of chill-fever; I had visited him several times during his illness. 

Of course, there are servants who never see this side of me because their disobedience requires me to discipline them continually. With this thought in mind I said, as we finished our meal, "You have seen one side of the Chara in judgment yesterday and today; you must return to the court again soon in order to see the Chara handing down mercy. Like his father, the Chara leans toward the Heart in his judgments. You may have heard that he is known as the Chara of Great Mercy." 

James pushed his wine cup over to one side to allow my free-servant to collect it easily. "What was the Chara Nicholas like?" 

"Much like his son. —Thank you, Curtis, you gave fine service today. You and the others may fetch your own meals now." 

Curtis asked no questions. He had been serving council lords long enough to know that their need for privacy often outweighed their need for service. I waited until the door had closed behind my servants, and I could hear them speaking on their way down the passage. Then I said, "The current Chara shares his father's forceful sense of duty and his gift for self-control. The self-control is particularly important in the Charas' line because, for whatever reason, all of the Charas seem to have possessed the same impulsive and devoted nature. Of course, these are qualities that are necessary to the Chara, since the Chara must care for his people as a mother cares for her children. But they are also qualities that can lead to ill-balance." 

"Ill-balance!" exclaimed James. "None of the Charas have gone mad, have they?" 

"Not according to the official histories," I commented dryly. I was looking past James's head to the window behind him. In this view to the south I could see the black border mountains that separate Emor from Koretia. There indeed was a land where madness flourished: superstitious rites, customs without law (until the Chara imposed his law), no inherent love of discipline or order. I remembered the tremendous relief I had felt when we arrived at the mountains ten years before, at the end of our trip to Koretia, and I knew that we had made it back to civilization with our wits still together. 

"And the unofficial histories?" prompted James. 

"Ask the court historian; he will be able to tell you. 'Mad' is perhaps too strong a word. No Chara has ever gone as far as that in his ill-balance. Many of the Charas, though, appear to have been disordered in their emotions. Fortunately, the tremendous self-control that I previously mentioned prevented most of them from allowing this condition to interfere with their duties." 

"Are you trying to say that the Chara Peter is ill-balanced?" I could see that James was not shocked, simply interested. 

"We can only guess at the Charas' conditions by looking back on their actions. It is too early to say how history will view the present Chara. If he does his duty, then no one will worry whether he lived in secret torment." 

I spoke in my usual even manner, and I saw James's expression flicker dark for a second at this apparently callous attitude of mine. I did not bother to amend what I had said. If James could not figure out for himself the strength of the bond between the Chara and me, then he was so much a fool that he would not be around long enough to be worth the trouble of educating. 

Instead I continued, "But there are a few cases – even the official histories reveal this – where the Chara was so severely tested that he lost the self-discipline which is the very mark of his royal line. The Balance of Judgment tilted, and from that moment on, the Chara was able only to show mercy or vengeance, never again the balance that his duty required." 

James stared down at the cup before him, fiddling with the stem. I was reminded, suddenly and intensely, of a dinner I had hosted for the Chara Nicholas and his son many years before. At that dinner, Nicholas had reminded Peter of the Chara's duty to exact vengeance. I had thought at the time that Peter was abashed because the lecture was caused by his own misdeed, but now I wondered whether he had been aware of how difficult it must be for his father to be forced by duty to threaten his own son with severe punishment. After all, this was the role that Peter himself was destined to inherit. 

James said, "I can see how hard it must be for the Chara, but I cannot imagine that he finds his role unbearable. He talks about his work with great enjoyment." 

"He has not lied to you; he does enjoy his work. But that does not make matters easy for him – particularly when he must deal with men like you." 

James looked up, startled. He started to speak, and then thought better of it. It is a trick I encouraged in my council lords: to allow the other party to reveal the full weakness of his arguments before launching one's own defense. It was not a trick that I had needed to teach James; he had arrived at the palace well armed with weapons of verbal warfare. 

I continued, "I told you before that the Chara is strong in both duty and devotion. I might have said more accurately that he is strong in personal devotion, and it is this which forces him to exert self-control, for there are many occasions during the day when he finds his duty in conflict with his personal feelings towards individuals. Last night was such an occasion. He invited you to his quarters at a time when he allows himself to abandon, as much as he ever can, the hard responsibilities of being the Chara. Because of this, he gave you many opportunities to accept his wishes in a spirit of friendship rather than through your fear of him. He was too patient with you – I do not say this lightly. Every time he gave you another chance to follow his command voluntarily, it only prolonged the agony for him: the agony of being a man who has no equals and who can never put personal feelings above his duty as a master. If the Chara ever loses all control over himself, it will be because of some incident such as this." 

James made no reply. He was looking down at the cup again, and I wondered whether my words had made as little effect on him as Peter's words the night before. Then I saw that his face had turned red. 

He said softly, "I didn't realize. I was being selfish last night – I saw myself as being judged and was angry because of it, but I never thought of what it was like for the Chara to have to judge me. I ought to have remembered; I've gone through something like that myself. But it was not a torment I had to undergo all of the time. There always existed masters above me." 

"If your ambitions run toward a position of high leadership in the government, this is something that you ought to remember, if not for the Chara's sake, then for your own. You, like the Chara, will be forced to exact vengeance on those for whom you may have affection, and you will not have as much opportunity as you do now for allowing your duty to lapse." 

James looked up then, scrutinizing my face. His voice was cold when he replied. "I thought that you brought me here to show me how I had hurt the Chara. I am grateful that you have revealed to me that blunder. But if you are trying to trick me into being a follower rather than a leader, that will not work. I know that sacrifices have to be made for the sake of duty; I knew that before I left Lone Bay Beach. I am not a soft babe who cries out when he is in pain. I am a council lord, prepared to take what suffering comes." 

"Good." I saw James's anger rise as I repeated the final word of the Chara in judgment, and I decided that this was the best moment to end our conversation. I ushered him out of my quarters and watched him walk down the corridor toward the court with a swagger like that of the subcommander's orderly. 

Then I turned and caught sight of the guards outside the Map Room door. They are always there, of course, to protect the documents inside, but after many years of living near that room, I had come to recognize their stiff stance when they were guarding the Chara himself. The Chara, it appeared, had not spent the noonday hour resting in his quarters with Lady Ursula. He was already back at work.


	3. Introduction of Terms | 3

**CHAPTER THREE**  
**964 a.g.l.**  


> _The most familiar line in the law books is of course the Introduction of Terms to the Law of Grave Iniquity, which begins, "And being as it is gravest of all that anyone should disobey the Great Chara . . ." It is often forgotten, however, that this chilling beginning is shared by the other two of the Great Three crimes against the Chara. It is even more often forgotten that the most trivial divergence from the law is a crime against the Chara, and may lead to dire consequences for Emor. In a phrase familiar to orchard farmers, Small seeds grow into large trees._

  
o—o—o

There have been times in my life when it has seemed to me that the past is not really gone but simply lies atop the present, replaying its old scenes in concert with the new ones. It is like a court case where events of decades ago are mentioned in seamless union with events of the present. At such times I can feel the past weighing so heavily upon me that it seems almost as though I am once more making the decisions I made years ago, the ones that brought me to the place where I am today. 

So it was that, as I stood before the Map Room during that busy noonday hour, staring at the silver doors, I gradually became aware of an empty corridor, dimly lit but otherwise little different from the place where I now stood. It was twenty-two years ago, I was standing uncertainly before the Map Room doors, and I was debating whether to call upon the Chara's assistance. 

It was well after midnight, but I knew that the Chara was there, for his own personal guards were stationed next to the Map Room guards. I saw one of them flick a glance at me, and this decided me. I would not have the guard reporting to the Chara that I had stood nervously before his doors like a boy afraid to ask his schoolmaster for a favor. 

I was left waiting a minute longer while the guard checked to see whether the Chara was willing to see me. Then he announced my presence, and as I entered the room I saw, lingering on the Chara's face, a look of surprise that I would visit him at such an hour. 

The Chara Nicholas was two years my senior. His face appeared older at this time than his forty-five years because, like me, he followed the army custom of wearing a beard. This and his height gave him an imposing appearance; it seemed almost superfluous that he also had a piercing gaze and an expression that was always serious and dignified. 

We had been friends for seven years, since I was first granted the title of council lord. Only during the past year, though, since I rose in rank to become a senior council lord, had I considered that I possessed the right to come unbidden to his presence. Never before had I intruded on him so late at night. 

Perhaps as a reminder of this fact, he said, "You're lucky to find me here. I'd nearly convinced myself that it's more important that I get some rest before tomorrow's court than that I try to sort out this incomprehensible set of proposals which the Daxion Ambassador has given me. May I be delivered from the high doom and from ambassadors who know nothing about Emor." 

"I apologize for disturbing you, Chara. I had best leave you to make your way to your bed." I still stood near the doorway, a long way off from where the Chara was standing at the other end of the room. 

This was the third of the three great rooms of the palace: the Council Chamber, the Court of Judgment, and the Map Room, the last being where the Chara studied military information, held receptions, and tried prisoners in private. The room was largely empty except for the table that the Chara was standing next to, and the shadows that hung like cobwebs from the high ceiling. 

Even from the distance, I could see Nicholas's scrutiny. It was followed by his reverberant voice saying, "No, I know that you wouldn't be here unless it were important. Did you try to locate me in my quarters first?" 

I moved forward, saying, "I did not need to do so, Chara. Your son had told me that you would be here tonight." 

There was a long silence. Nicholas, with careful precision, timed his reply for the moment that I reached the table. "You met with Peter?" 

My breath was momentarily trapped in my lungs until I realized that I, at least, was in no danger. I said, my voice dragging with reluctance, "He came to see me this evening. He did not ask your permission?" 

"He did not." Nicholas was sharp in his reply, but he added more gently, "It worries me little. Peter rarely disobeys me, and when he does, it is only on matters he considers to be of the greatest importance. You should feel flattered that he places a visit to you in that category." 

Edging my way carefully through the conversation, I said, "I am not happy that I am the cause of his disobedience, but I am indeed flattered. I thought that he had come to see me on your command." 

Nicholas gave an uncommon smile then. He was a somber man and rarely lightened his mood, even for his friends. He sat down in a chair by the blazing hearth. "Peter knows of my respect for you and has wanted for some time to be able to speak privately with you. Did you come here tonight because of him?" 

"Only in a roundabout manner, Chara." I was busy timing myself to wait a full minute before sitting down. I had made the mistake early in Nicholas's acquaintance of seating myself before the Chara was fully settled. The look he had given me on that occasion had caused me to avoid his presence for the next three months. "I am sorry to report that one of my slaves has run away." 

Like all the Charas, Nicholas had a memory which captured events like a snare-noose. He said, "The one who created the small incident during dinner tonight?" 

I nodded. 

Nicholas sighed and asked, "Does he know the penalty for escape?" 

"I thought I had impressed that knowledge on all my slaves," I said bitterly, "but this is not the first time I have failed to brand a fact in Andrew's mind." 

Nicholas stared down at the hearth-fire, his expression even more sober than usual. I wondered how many times he had watched a Slave's Death, the method of execution for palace slaves. I had watched it only once. Nothing I had witnessed over the years, not even in the Chara's army, had sickened me more. Only my determination as a new council lord to know the discipline of palace life had kept me watching for the full week. 

Nicholas said softly, "As a boy, I swore to myself that I would one day repeal the penalty for escaped palace slaves, or at least allow them a Free-man's Death. But as you know, my ascent to the throne coincided with the beginning of the Border Wars, and we discovered then that the Koretians had been able to breach the border so easily because of military information given to them by a former palace slave. Did you ever see the villages destroyed by the Koretians?" 

"Unfortunately, yes, Chara. The lieutenant of my old patrol unit came from one of the borderland villages. We went back together to see whether his family had survived. We had only to glance at his village to see that our trip had been wasted." 

"Now that the Koretians are under my care, I try to wipe those memories from my mind, as well as the fact that Koretia broke its peace oath through its attack. It was not a pleasant beginning to my duties. So my first act – once I had relieved Godfrey of his High Lordship, since he had given my father such poor advice on Koretia – was to institute another custom for palace slaves: thereafter, they could never be given their manumission papers. No doubt this makes life hard for the slave-servants here: they face permanent enslavement if they stay, painful death if they try to leave. But I would rather that a few slaves suffered than that the borderland villagers ever endure the Koretians' treachery again." 

I did not reply as I watched the anger and pain in Nicholas's face. My first real encounter with the Koretian thirst for bloodshed had shocked me so greatly that never again had I visited that land of dagger-wielding gods and murderous blood vows. But I could not escape the news that crossed the border, and so I had heard on many occasions of the Koretians' penchant for betrayal, especially during the final years of the Border Wars, when Nicholas's patience had been stretched to its farthest endurance. He had finally resorted to trickery worthy of the Koretians: he gained passage for his army through our southwestern neighbor of Daxis and had attacked the Koretian capital from the south. I remembered the relief that we at the palace had felt, three years before, when news of the victory came. I recalled our determination that never again would we allow the Koretians the freedom to attack us. 

It had been during that same summer that I had gone one day to the city market and discovered an arrogant Koretian slave being sold. 

"But I have strayed from the subject," said Nicholas. "Was it because of what happened at dinner that the slave ran away?" 

"Not directly, Chara, but it was an element." 

Nicholas rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and folded his hands in front of his face, peering at me over his knuckles. "You know that I believe discipline to be important, Carle, but this did not strike me as an important incident." 

"It was important to me." 

My words echoed to the end of the empty room, lingering far longer than I would have wished. Having freed them from my lips, I could not bring them back, so I stepped carefully through my next sentences, as though I were a spy sliding through enemy territory. "Lord Peter is not the only one who has wished for the two of us to talk. I have had few opportunities to see your son outside of official functions, Chara, but what I have witnessed has impressed me. He appears to share with you a sensitivity to the law and a knowledge of the burdens of the Chara's office. Unless you outlive me, one day he will be my master. It therefore seemed to me that it would be a good idea for us to become better acquainted. For the sake of my duties, I mean." 

Nicholas was trained to see through the deceptions of political schemers and traitors; I supposed it was too much for me to hope that he would not see through my transparent speech. He replied quietly, "This is why I brought him with me to your dinner tonight: because I hoped that your friendship to the Chara might extend beyond a single generation. But I'm not sure I see what this has to do with the slave." 

I swallowed, trying to contain the frustration that welled up in me at the memory of the dinner. "It gave me great pleasure to listen to your son discussing so knowledgeably the laws related to ambassadorial visits. It was clear that he was not simply reciting by rote, but is actually interested in what he is learning. I was also pleased when he asked to come visit me; I thought that I must be making a good impression on him. And then, of course, Andrew deliberately poured water into my wine glass at the moment that I was speaking of my success in disciplining servants – and the way that I was alerted to Andrew's deed was by seeing your son laugh at me." 

I stopped abruptly, having revealed far too much of what I had felt at that moment. Tactful as always, Nicholas said, "I can understood why you were irritated by your failure to train the slave properly, but I've always thought it unwise to discipline servants when I am angry." 

"I swear to you, Chara, I did my best to control my anger when I spoke to Andrew later. I simply pointed out to him the importance of respecting one's superiors. It was the same conversation I had, with a change of viewpoint, when your son came by immediately afterwards. I explained to Lord Peter why I thought it best for masters not to acquire personal ties with their servants." 

"As you know, you and I hold the same view on that matter, Carle. I too believe that the gap between servant and nobleman is too great to bridge. Did Peter accept your advice?" 

"I am not sure, Chara, but he certainly seemed grateful that I had spoken to him on the matter." I stared at the fire before me blindly, seeing in my mind's eye the moment when I had brought out the royal emblem brooch and placed it in Peter's hands. The look he had given me when I asked him to keep it was burnt forever in my mind. 

Then I shook this thought away and added, "It was as I was leaving my study chamber to go to bed that I happened across Andrew standing by the window in my passageway, chatting with your son as though Lord Peter were his fellow slave. That is when I lost my temper with Andrew." 

"The conversation was Peter's fault, I'm sure," said Nicholas. "It's the sort of thing he does often, not realizing the trouble this causes servants, who feel duty-bound to appear friendly to their masters." 

I said dryly, "If there is any slave in the palace who does not need to be encouraged to show insolent familiarity, it is Andrew. Up until now his insolence has taken the form of defiance, as he claims to hate all Emorians. There is something typically Koretian about his decision to then turn and show immediate cordiality toward Lord Peter. And of course it is your son who suffers the most as a result of such an encounter, for it causes him to lose a sense of his proper duty." 

"I fear it is your slave that is now in danger of great suffering," responded Nicholas. "You know as well as I do that he is unlikely to make it past the city gates, and once he has been arrested by the city patrol I will have no choice but to bring him under judgment. Would you like me to send out a few of my spies and see whether they can locate him first?" 

"Chara—" I had to make a second try at speech, so overwhelmed was I by Nicholas's generosity. "It is a great deal more than either my slave or I deserve, and I thank you." 

Nicholas stood up then and went to the door. While he spoke to one of his guards, I rose and waited, standing by the hearth. Fire crackled in the hearth, pushing back the winter coolness. The palace was still with night; the only sound was Nicholas's strong, resonant voice filling the chamber. It was as though the mighty room had been stripped of its furniture because further space was required for the presence of the Great Chara. 

When he returned, he said, "Have no fear; I employ men who will find him quickly. But in exchange, I ask that you ensure that this does not happen again. It isn't good for discipline in the palace, and most certainly it is not healthy for your slave." 

I replied firmly, "I have been lax for too long with Andrew. You need not worry that I will fail to teach him the lesson he requires in this matter." 

I bowed, and was on the point of leaving when Nicholas beckoned me back, saying, "There is another matter of lessons I had been meaning to discuss with you, and I might as well do so while you are here. I am in need of a tutor for my son." 

I was silent, thinking to myself that it was unlikely such an idea had entered Nicholas's mind before I was fool enough on this night to reveal my hidden hopes. 

The Chara continued, "I've never had time to help Peter with his work, and though I've trained him to study on his own, he has reached an age where he needs to go beyond mere memorization. He needs to discuss his studies with someone who can reveal to him the deeper meaning of the law. Dean has offered in the past to take on this role, but I would rather that you do so if you have the time. It was clear to me, from statements you made at dinner tonight, that Peter will be able to turn to you for more than simply lessons in the law. As I'm sure you can see, he is a boy of tremendous affection, and he has nowhere to direct that affection at the moment. Even I cannot be with him often, and one day I will not be there ever again." 

He said the words quietly, as though they were a fact so deeply etched in his consciousness that it caused him no pain to speak of the matter. Indeed, the limits of the Chara's lifespan had undoubtedly been clear to Nicholas since the days when he first memorized his family history and learned the dates of the Charas' births and deaths. 

I was quiet also in my reply. "Chara, you may depend on me to look after your son in whatever way I can. I am not gifted in many areas, but when a friend of mine sacrificed his life out of service to the Chara, I swore to myself that I too would serve the Chara with dedication and passion. I made that vow during your father's reign, and you may be sure that I will remain true to that vow when your son gains the throne." 

Nicholas nodded, and the lines in his face relaxed somewhat. He glanced over at the table. "I suppose I really ought to finish looking over those proposals." 

"I think that you ought to get some sleep." I did not often make such bold statements to the Chara, but perhaps because they were so rare, Nicholas took notice of them when I did. 

He turned his eyes toward me now. "You may be right. I'll rest a while here on the couch, at least. It isn't worth the trouble to go back to my quarters, wake my free-servant, and have him build me a fire in my sleeping chamber. I'll be more comfortable here." 

I left then, and the last sight I saw before I walked through the tall doorway of the Map Room was Nicholas lying down on the couch next to the fire, a smile on his face. 

o—o—o

Three days later I stood in the doorway of a dark room, staring down at the still body of Andrew. 

He was not asleep – at least, he had not been asleep minutes before when he had first heard me talking to my free-servant. Now, though, he was oblivious to all that we said: his tearless eyes were closed, his breathing was heavy, and he was curled naked on the flagstones of the unlit and unfurnished room. Despite the fact that the full light from the corridor torch did not reach to his body, I could see the red stripes on his side where the whip had curled round from his back. 

My free-servant, Henry, was standing silently beside me. He was an older man than myself and had been my servant since I first came to the palace. As tactfully as a gentle mother, he had taught me over the years how to behave in a manner suitable to my changing ranks, but he was far too disciplined to advise me on matters that were my own province. I could see, however, that he was as close as he had ever been to offering advice unasked. 

I said, "He has not admitted that he was wrong?" 

"He has not spoken at all since the punishment began." Henry paused a moment before adding, "Obed believes that it would be dangerous to continue any longer." 

Obed was the palace slave-keeper, who was administering the beating. I continued to gaze at the slave-boy in front of me, seeing what Henry saw: an eleven-year-old child badly hurt. But I also saw what Henry did not see, since he had not heard Nicholas's speech. If I did not succeed in my task of winning Andrew's obedience, then the boy would one day soon face a far more terrible punishment, with certain death at the end. 

"Continue the beating," I said curtly. "But—" This was to forestall Henry, who had begun to speak. "If he says a single word, have Obed stop. I will interpret any break in his silence as a sign of remorse." 

Henry nodded, but his expression remained uncertain. I turned away abruptly. The night was drawing late; nothing new would occur here until the morning. I made my way alone out of the slave-quarters, which I had been visiting every few hours during the past three days. Even the lightest of punishments can go awry, and in cases like this, I always try to be present when the beatings occur in order to be sure that the slave-keeper punishes the slave no more and no less than is necessary. 

I left the slave-quarters by way of the guarded doorway and cursed myself, for the dozenth time, for not having Andrew escorted back to his quarters three nights before. It was this which had allowed him to slip out of the palace unnoticed, for the palace guards did not expect to see anyone except free-men out at night. If I had been thinking clearly— But I had made too many mistakes in this matter to allow myself to dwell on any single one. Because of my mishandling of the affair, my slave's life was in danger. 

I turned right rather than left and began walking down the corridor in the direction of the court. The guards at the Chara's doorway had their spears crossed; no doubt Nicholas had retired for the night, as well as his son, whose sleeping chamber next door had a separate entrance to the corridor. In any case, I could not disturb the Chara with this matter. I was Andrew's immediate master, and it was for me to struggle with the question of how to help the boy. 

The southern corridor ends by meeting a corridor running east-west; the eastern section to the right wraps around the Court of Judgment, travels past the main palace entrance, and eventually meets the northern corridor leading to the council quarters. But I went left instead, following the section of the corridor that wraps around the back of the court. Eventually I found myself standing next to one of the entrances to the inner garden. 

The garden is a place where I have spent many hours during my years living at the palace. Country-bred as I am, I delight in the large, enclosed courtyard, which is fashioned to appear like a rural scene. This month, the weather had been too chilly to allow me to spend much time in the garden, for the snow season was approaching. I wished, in fact, that the snow season had already arrived, for that would have left the country roads impassable and prevented Andrew from trying to escape. 

Now, though, I found myself drawn into the dark landscape. The new moon had slipped into the sky like a shadow, and so the fields and low rock walls were illuminated only by the few overlooking windows that remained lit at this time of night. With the garden view hidden from sight, I concentrated on the smell of moist earth and wet bush leaves. In a single moment I was transported back to my childhood home: the plowed fields, the orchard, the tiny flowers growing between cracks in the stony walls. 

That moment brought me to a decision. I would send Andrew to my country home, which I had retained with the thought that I might some day retire there. Only a handful of slave-servants ran the place; they were essentially the house's owners, living as free-men do. 

This was not a new idea. I had been discussing the matter with Henry for some time. Only three nights before, the night of Andrew's escape, I had told the boy that I did not believe he was suitable for such independent duties, because he had not yet learned obedience. My statement had been true, though I had still hoped then that I could teach him obedience. Few masters, I knew, would have tolerated Andrew's behavior without falling into one of two traps: either punishing him too severely or showing him too much mercy. 

Well, it was not clear whether I was making one of those mistakes or perhaps both. But nothing I had tried had worked with the boy: neither stern words nor kind ones. And it had reached the point, I realized, where I could do no more. Andrew had looked at me briefly when I stood at his doorway a few minutes before, and the look he had given me was of pure hatred. I knew that, even if I managed to exact obedience from him in this matter, it would not be safe for him to remain under my immediate care. The day would come when he would resort to violence rather than obey my orders, and though he was an unarmed slave and therefore of no great danger to me, he would be creating danger for himself in such a case. No slave under my care had ever been charged with a crime in the Chara's court, and I did not want Andrew to be the one who destroyed that record. 

I could not sell Andrew, for no one in the palace would buy a slave with a reputation such as his, nor could I free him, because of the palace custom on this matter. So I would send him to the country, where he might learn to discipline himself, or, if he did not, I could free him after enough time had passed that people no longer remembered he had once been a palace slave. I was not happy at the idea of circumventing Nicholas's wishes in this fashion, but I could not face the idea of one of my slaves dying because I had not tried every possible method to help him. 

It was a poor solution, but it was the best I could do, and so I returned to my quarters to begin making the arrangements for Andrew's transfer. 

I was full of thoughts as I opened the door to my quarters and turned the corner in order to walk down the passage that led to my rooms. Andrew's body would need time to heal. Normally I would check his wounds myself to be sure that they did not fester, but in the present instance I thought it would be better to have Henry handle the matter. The sooner that Andrew forgot me and transferred his thoughts to his new duties, the better chance he would have for learning obedience, whether it be to me, to the village baron, or to whatever other master Andrew served during his life. Obedience to someone he would have to learn, just as I had been forced to learn obedience to the Chara. 

So I was thinking as I opened my study-chamber door and found the Chara's son awaiting me. 

He was standing with his back to the blazing hearth, evidence that he had been let in by Henry, for I had allowed the fire to die out earlier that evening. He was paler than usual, but even so he looked older than his fourteen years. I had never met a child with such extraordinary self-control and poise. What spirit remained to be tamed manifested itself in a tendency to fidget with his right hand – but only when he believed his hand to be hidden. Now he stood quite still except for that one hand, which rose in the free-man's greeting. 

It was a statement louder than a shout. He was not here as the Chara To Be or even as the Chara's son, but as Lord Peter, with equal rank to myself. Answering both the gesture and the statement in kind, I said, "Won't you be seated, Lord Peter?" 

He sat obediently, watching as I poured out some wine for myself and my guest. I handed him a cup. Seating myself next to him by the fire, I said gently, "I trust that your father knows you are here." 

"Yes, Lord Carle." The Chara's son usually spoke in a low voice, but I fancied that his tone was even more subdued than usual. I hoped that Nicholas had not punished him too severely for his previous, unauthorized visit. 

"Well, then, I am glad to see you. I had thought I was the only person wandering sleepless tonight." 

He shook his head, avoiding my eyes. Peter had always been quiet, but this was something different; some matter was preying on his mind. I asked, "Is there any way in which I can help you?" 

Peter took a deep breath, as the court clerk breathes deeply before reciting a particularly long proclamation. "I should tell you – the Chara instructed me to tell you, but I would have done so in any case – that I am here on a matter which involves only myself. The Chara said I should let you know that you must not allow your reply to me be influenced by either your duty toward him or your friendship. This is a matter that he is not entering into, for it is between you and me only." 

He was holding his cup in his lap – gripping it, in fact – and he still had not looked up toward me. I was alarmed. I had watched Peter attend council meetings, receptions for foreign visitors, and executions, looking upon all that he saw with the same steady and fearless gaze. Perhaps "fearless" was the wrong word; I guessed that he feared much of what occurred around him, but he had been taught by his father to reveal none of his weaknesses. I could not imagine what was worrying him to such a degree that he would abandon his training. 

I responded, "I will take what you have said into account in my reply. Now ask what you have come to ask, and please be direct, as you may be sure that I will treat your question with the seriousness it deserves." 

He looked up then, his gaze even with mine, but with an expression that a soldier might wear when entering into perilous battle. He said, "I wondered whether you would consider selling Andrew to me." 

The relief I felt at that moment – both for Peter's sake and for Andrew's – was so great that I could not give the direct reply I had intended, but instead said, "Your father would allow you to buy a slave?" 

"Andrew would really be his slave, but the Chara said that he would give me immediate charge over Andrew . . . if you consented to sell him. Would you be willing to do so?" 

His fingers were white from gripping the cup, and I could see the blood beating fast in his temples. My initial relief was over and my reservations were beginning to flood in, but there was no point in making the tormented boy wait for an answer. I said, "If you wish to take Andrew under your care, then you may consider him a gift." 

Despite his best efforts to control himself, his breath exploded in a sigh. After a moment, he said, "I think that my father would prefer to pay." 

"The Chara may of course do as he wishes in this matter; in any case, Andrew is yours. But would you mind if I offered you some advice?" 

Peter shook his head. He was smiling – I was not sure I had witnessed him smile more than once before – and his hand was relaxed as he raised his cup to drink. Seeing all this, I chose my next words carefully. However much trouble and pain Andrew had caused me over the past three years, it would not be fair for me to reveal to his new master that Andrew had vowed to kill the Chara – that, in fact, I had received evidence three days ago that Andrew still intended to carry out his vow. That had been before Peter spoke to Andrew. It was possible that Peter's gentle affection, which I had seen him direct toward his father, would give Andrew more incentive for obedience and loyalty than my own discipline. 

But I could be wrong, and I could be selling to Peter his own future assassin. Some warning had to be given. I said, "There have been times when I have lost patience with Andrew and called him a dog. Well, I do not think my appellation was that far off the mark. Andrew is indeed like a dog I owned as a boy, but he is much worse trained than that dog. My dog showed great loyalty, but I question whether Andrew is the sort who is capable of understanding loyalty and obedience. I have never seen him show loyalty toward anything or anyone, and I worry that this is not because he is a slave who has been taken from his native land, but because he is the sort of person who is swayed by momentary emotions. Right now he hates me, so he bites my hand; he appears to have taken a liking to you, so he shows affection and licks your hand and does all that any happy puppy would do. I do not doubt his present affection for you. What worries me is that if something in the future should change – if he should find some compelling reason to transfer his loyalty to someone else – then you could find yourself cornered by a vicious dog. If this were to happen, you would face the possibility of treachery worse than any that the Koretians have practiced on Emor over the years." 

Peter heard me out, but he was already frowning early on in my speech. At the end, he said politely, "You know Andrew far better than I do, Lord Carle, but it is hard for me to believe that he would do such a thing." 

I could not say more without revealing Andrew's confidence – if "confidence" was the word for a statement he had made, not only to me on our first meeting, but recently to a slave he scarcely knew. So I decided to try another tack. "We are all capable of treachery, even the best of us. All men are born with evil impulses; the only thing that keeps this land from disintegrating into lawlessness is the discipline exerted by the Chara and the lesser judges. Masters of any sort must exert discipline, and it is particularly important in a case like Andrew's." 

"Why Andrew?" Peter's polite neutrality was beginning to strain. "I have spoken with him, and he is a peaceful person, friendly and passionate—" 

"It is the passion that worries me. Andrew has a thirst for violence – I recognized this at our first encounter, and it is why I decided to buy him. I believed that if he did not learn to discipline his bloodthirst, the results could be tragic, both for him and for others. You might say that I recognized him as kin to myself, since I too have had to learn to discipline my passions over the years. I have been grateful when others have helped me do so, as I have been willing to help Andrew." 

"I think that it would have been better if you had allowed Andrew the opportunity to discipline himself," countered Peter. His voice had turned a trifle cool. "As you must know, it is harder to accept commands from others than from oneself." 

"It is not an issue I feel the need to argue about. I am more interested in letting you see that the hardest role of all is to be the one who carries out the discipline, the one who issues the commands." 

Peter looked at me with puzzlement. His mind, it was clear, was still on Andrew and what he had suffered under me. I wanted his thoughts to be on his own role as Andrew's new master – as well as on another mastership for which he was training. 

I continued, "Did the Chara give you a reason why he was willing to buy Andrew for you?" 

Peter blinked his eyes rapidly for a moment before replying, "He said that he thought it would help me to learn how to be the Chara. Did he tell you that? I took him to visit Andrew only a short while ago." 

I understood then from whence this interest in Andrew's welfare had arisen, and I felt a strong urge to apologize to Peter for what I had allowed to happen. But the Chara's son would have to take on tasks far harder than mine. In order to help him, as his father wished, I would need to make him recognize the seriousness of the job he was undertaking. 

"Your father has not spoken to me about this," I said, "but I know the Chara's talent for giving simple gifts which have a deeper benefit hidden. I am sure that being master to Andrew will teach you much about the need to wield the Sword of Vengeance." 

Peter began to speak with raised voice, and then stopped himself abruptly. I noted this with approval. In a few years, Peter would have himself well enough trained that no one would guess when he had lost his temper. His voice was deceptively calm as he replied, "I have not forgotten what you told me at our last meeting about the necessity for punishing servants who have gone astray. I have given a great deal of thought to what you said, and in one respect I do not think I can agree with you. I do not believe that discipline always requires vengeance. It seems to me that it is often possible to teach a servant what he needs to know through love and mercy rather than fear and vengeance." 

"You will not find me an opponent to that belief," I replied. "I have seen your father convert too many prisoners through his mercy to try to argue that the Heart of Mercy should be stripped from the royal emblem. But you must remember that the Balance of Judgment requires both mercy and vengeance. There will be sweet moments in your work as the Chara when your duty requires you to free a prisoner, but there will also be many moments when your duty requires you to sentence a prisoner to a beating or branding or imprisonment or slavery or death. That is the job of the Chara." 

Peter was silent a minute before saying softly, "It is a hard job." 

"It is indeed. Are you sure that you wish to undertake it?" 

Peter gave a crooked smile. "It is not as though I have any choice." 

I paused a moment to take up my cup and sip my drink, which I had not tasted until this moment. It was wine made from wall-vine grapes, which do not grow south of the black border mountains. The wine glowed golden from the firelight. For a moment, my mind nearly touched a memory, as a man touches a deep wound. Then I turned my thoughts to the scene before me. 

I said, "There are always choices in life, Lord Peter. The Chara's son does not automatically become Chara." 

For a breath's space, the only sound was the hissing and popping of the damp firewood. Then Peter replied, in a voice carefully purged of all expression, "Do you mean that the council does not wish me to take the throne?" 

"The council has never voted on the matter, but I doubt that you need fear any barriers of that sort. What I meant was that you have a choice of whether or not to become Chara. Between the time of your father's death and the time of your enthronement, you are allowed the opportunity to decline the throne." 

"My father never told me this." His voice was still quiet, but I sensed the question behind it. 

"No doubt your father did not wish to think back on his own painful period of choosing what to do. You will find the law on this matter in the volume on births, deaths, and marriages; the laws on the Chara's enthronement are squeezed into a subsection of the marriage laws, since the Chara 'marries' the land when he takes his initial oath. And if you consult the volume on the court cases of the Chara Rufus, you will find that the first case deals with his older brother's decision to refuse the throne. That is the only case known where the Chara's heir declined to take power." 

"I can see why there would be only one case," murmured Peter. "It would be a shameful act to commit." 

"On the contrary, the man in question was much honored for his willingness to admit that he did not have the strength to take on the arduous duties of the Chara. If you were to decide the same, neither I nor anyone else in this land would feel anything but respect for you." 

Peter was silent for a long while after that, so absorbed in his thoughts that his hand was unconsciously released to finger the arm of his chair. A winter breeze forced itself through the cracks in my window shutter, but it made little impact on the chamber, which was glow-warm with fire. 

Finally he said, staring down at the floor, "It would be a hard decision to make. I always assumed that the council alone would have the responsibility of determining whether I was qualified for the work. I'm not sure how I would decide such a matter myself. I hate to worry my father with such questions." 

"If I can be of help to you in this or any other matter, Lord Peter, you are welcome to seek my assistance." 

I let the words drop in what I hoped was a casual manner, but Peter's gaze flew up toward me. He said hesitantly, "I wouldn't want to bother you either. I know that it is your duty by law to assist the Chara To Be, but I don't feel that I ought to take advantage of you in that way." 

I found myself trapped between a need to make clear my personal interest in Peter's problems and a longtime reticence toward discussing my inner feelings. But the Chara's son and I shared one passion I could openly mention. "You have spent many years reading the law, Lord Peter, so perhaps you regard the law in the same way as I do: not as a chain that binds men to do reluctantly that which they would never willingly do, but rather as a chain that holds the key to freedom. The boundaries of the law seem to me as necessary to freedom as lines of perspective are to a painting or harmonic proportions are to a song. Without these, life would dissolve into chaos and cacophony, and so to do my duty in accordance with the law is as pleasurable to me as singing a ballad is to a Daxion bard." 

Peter's mouth had been slowly widening throughout my speech. Now, as I finished, he shut his lips hastily, swallowed, and said in a hushed voice, "That is exactly how I have always seen the law, but I thought that no one except my father thought of it in that way. Lord Dean talks about the law as though it were a tool to gain power." 

"The law is less cherished than it ought to be, Lord Peter, but for that very reason, those of us who are lovers of the law are always eager to seek out the company of fellow admirers." 

I relaxed further back in the cushioned chair. This was a comfortable chamber, not gaudy I hoped, but having lived as a young man under austere conditions, I had never seen any reason to deny myself a few of the luxuries I had longed for in the past: a blazing fire scented with evergreen branches, Arpeshian tapestries to keep out the cold and to please the eye, law books to bring each day to a fitting close . . . Yet it seemed to me suddenly that this chamber had never been so warm, so pleasing to the eye, so filled with the law as I found it to be tonight. 

The muted notes of the midnight trumpets made their way through the shutter cracks. Peter stirred and said, "I ought to be readying myself for bed now. I can hardly remain here when you have presented before my eyes such a beautiful image of duty. If you will excuse me, Lord Carle . . ." 

I nodded. We both rose, and he went to the door. As he was about to step through the doorway, he looked back, saying, "Tonight I didn't wear the brooch you gave me because I didn't want you to misunderstand my reasons for doing so, since I came here to ask a favor. But I think that I will wear it from now on as a way to remind me of the love that we share for the law. Good night to you, Lord Carle." 

I did not reply; I could not have spoken. I stood for a long time after that, staring at the dagger-shaped flames of the fire, and thinking that happiness can sometimes be more painful than punishment.


	4. Introduction of Terms | 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**  
**965 a.g.l.**  


> _Although the Introduction of Terms may seem the least important section of the law, it does serve the useful purpose of preparing the student for what is to come after. In the same manner, a law-loving Emorian who is sufficiently alert may realize that his small and well-meant actions are bringing him into danger of committing a crime._

  
o—o—o

It was about a month later that Nicholas stopped me in the southern corridor. He was dressed for the court, with the ruby on his teardrop-shaped pendant shining blood-red in the early morning sun. His face was unceremonious, though, and more relaxed than I usually saw it. 

"Are you planning to start your lessons with Peter any time soon?" he asked, pulling me aside from the stream of lords and palace officials who sped their way along the corridor at this time of day. 

"Not yet, Chara. I thought, since his sleeping-chamber service had changed recently, he would want time to adjust." This was as much as to say that I had not wanted to intrude while Peter was training his new slave-servant. 

"Oh, certainly he is spending much of his spare time with Andrew. When I checked in on him last night before bed, he was absorbed in conversation with the boy. But he is also eager to see you; he has talked of little else during the past month except your wisdom and benevolence. I think that you have sparked the beginnings of a strong friendship, Carle – if you do not mind the idea of being befriended by a boy who is a third your age." 

I had some trouble speaking. Finally I said, in a carefully neutral voice, "I do not think that age is a great factor in these matters." 

Nicholas had never been fooled by my shows of indifference. Now he smiled and said, "Besides, it will do Peter good to have a friend who can be a second father to him. My duties are so time-consuming that I often think that Peter regards himself as an orphan. I am grateful to you for being willing to take on my son's guardianship, since I cannot." 

Near us, the elderly court clerk stopped and began making discreet gestures at the Chara. Nicholas waved him on toward the court as he added lightly to me, "I attribute wonders to your tutoring already because of Peter's behavior this morning. Usually I allow him leisure time between the hour he arises and the beginning of the court day, and he generally avoids the law books during that time. I can't blame him for this, since his studies occupy most of his waking hours. But he has been traipsing in and out of my quarters since dawn this morning, fetching and returning various volumes. I can only conclude that he is eager to begin work with you." 

"I doubt that such dedication will last long," I remarked dryly. "Not when he discovers the study plan I have prepared for him. But I suppose that I ought to take advantage of the moment and pay him a call." 

"Do so, and don't bother to knock. When Peter is immersed in his studies, he becomes oblivious to all else in the world." Nicholas paused as the call of three trumpets drifted in through the high corridor windows. "I'm late; I must go. If you have time after your council meeting this afternoon, come by the Map Room and tell me how your first lesson went with Peter." 

I bowed in reply and then watched Nicholas stride down the corridor, accompanied as always by his pair of personal guards. It made an impressive display: the thick leather armor of the soldiers, the sharp spears they carried, and overshadowing all else, the tall man in the flowing black cloak, accepting with silent dignity the bows of the men he passed. The stream of people in the corridor parted round him like water round a hard rock, and I reflected, not for the first time, that Peter would have a difficult job if he tried to be even half the man that his father was. 

I turned and made my way to Peter's door. Nicholas's living-chamber guards, who knew me well, accepted my word that I was here at the Chara's invitation. Having settled that matter briefly, I followed Nicholas's advice and entered Peter's chamber without knocking. 

I had never before been there, but it struck me immediately as the finest room I had seen in the palace. Much of the Chara's residence is as dark as the Emorian sky, but in this room the southern and western walls were dotted with a series of high windows, allowing light to flood in as it might upon a courtyard or other open space. The windows were all unshuttered now, for the winter snows were surprisingly late this year. A warm breeze scurried about the room, playing in the corners. 

Despite the warmth, a fire burnt energetically in the southwest-corner hearth. The boy was lying on his stomach in front of this, surrounded on all sides by a familiar set of books. He was perusing one of them with great concentration; I saw his finger run along the lines as he read. Then, as he reached the end of the page, he licked his finger and used it to turn the page. 

I closed the door in a loud enough manner to alert him to my presence. For a while he continued to read; then he looked over his shoulder casually. He was momentarily still. Then he turned back to the book, carefully closed it, and with steady quickness rose to his feet. I caught a glimpse of his eyes before his gaze dropped: they were cold and fierce. 

"Where is your master, Andrew?" My question came out harsher than I had intended, for I was caught doubly off-guard: I could not understand Andrew's cool reaction to the fact that I had found him neglecting his work, and I had not realized, in all the time he had been my slave, that he could read Emorian, much less Old Emorian, the scholarly language in which the law volumes are written. 

Andrew was saved from answering by Peter's return. I was nearly hit in the face by the door, for Peter had his face buried in a law book. He closed the door without looking up and said, "Here is another one with laws covering slavery. I haven't found one yet that allows a slave to enter charges against his master, but if we keep looking—" He stopped suddenly; he had caught sight of me. 

For a moment he simply stared. Then something invaded his expression that was foreign to all I had seen of him until this time. It was easy enough for me to identify what it was: it was the mirror image of the look of hatred I had just received from Andrew. 

"Good day to you, Lord Carle," he said. His voice was, if anything, colder than his eyes. "May I help you with something?" 

I waited just long enough to make him feel insecure before replying, "On the contrary, Lord Peter, I have come to help you. I am here to give you your first lesson – if you think you can spare the time in between your own unauthorized researches." 

He had begun to turn toward Andrew. Now he halted and looked back at me, astonished, as though I had felled him with a blow. Since he had hitherto lived a sheltered existence as the Chara's son, I did not imagine that he was used to being addressed in such a manner, perhaps not even by his father, whose discipline was gentler than my own. 

But while Peter was unlikely to encounter many men in his life who would speak harshly to him, he would encounter numerous ones who would treat him in a harsh manner. The only way in which he could learn to deal with such people was by determining first how to protect himself against my acid tongue. 

This was in fact my first lesson, and he performed well on the test. He did not fly into a rage or retreat to lick his wounds. He simply said, in a voice more solid than rock, "Certainly, Lord Carle. My father told me that you would be coming for this purpose. In any case, I am anxious to get to know all of the Chara's lords." 

This was a not-too-subtle way of telling me that I would some day be his council lord and under his command. Pleased with his response, I gave him a formal bow, and then allowed my gaze to drift toward Andrew. 

He had been watching me closely; now his eyes dropped promptly. In any other slave, I would have taken this as a sign of good training. For Andrew, I knew, it was simply a way of concealing his enmity. Without awaiting Peter's orders – I wondered now whether Peter had spent the month giving him any training at all – he headed toward the door. 

I went over to stand by the hearth, turning in time to see Peter whisper to Andrew. I reflected that, some day in the future, when Peter had forgotten this episode, I would need to reveal to him that all of the Chara's spies are trained to read lips. I had done espionage work for only a short period, but I could still make out what Peter was saying: "Don't be afraid. He can't hurt you any more." Then the door closed, and I was left alone with the cold-eyed boy. 

It was no good using the same methods I had tried on Andrew. Whatever role I might be playing toward Peter now, some day he would be my master, and a servant does not call into question the decisions of his master. My duty was simply to guide him into recognizing what facts he should use to make those decisions and to advise him in what manner the decisions should be carried out. So I allowed my eyes to drop – not as Andrew's had done, in arrogance, but in true humility. 

My gaze fell upon the volume that Andrew had been reading. I knelt down and turned the spine to face me, more for Peter's benefit than mine, for I could not have mistaken the thickest volume of the law books. I stayed still for a moment, as though unable to raise my head. Then I slowly rose, and with eyes still lowered, I came to stand beside Peter. 

When I looked up at him again, I found that I had succeeded in shaming him. He stared at me uncertainly as I handed him the volume on crimes that are punishable by the high doom. I said quietly, "I would suggest, Lord Peter, that rather than conduct such researches on your own, you seek the advice of the Chara. He is the proper man to tell you how you may go about entering a charge against me." 

For a moment Peter did not speak. Then he said, in a voice that mixed embarrassment with defiance, "There is probably no crime that I can charge you with. It is just—" 

I waited to see if he would complete his sentence, then said, "Cruelty?" 

He nodded. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have found this an easy situation to resolve. I was annoyed to find myself distracted by thoughts of Andrew, who had rewarded my mercy toward him by infecting Peter with his hatred. I pushed those thoughts to one side. What Peter felt about me was of far less importance than that he understand what effect such emotions might have on his work as the Chara. 

"Well, Lord Peter, even in your father's court, the prisoner is allowed to hear testimony," I said. "May I ask what witness Andrew has made against me?" 

He hesitated a moment, but my appeal to the law had done its work, and for the next hour I was treated to an account of the abuse I had supposedly inflicted, not only upon Andrew, but upon every slave I had owned during the past three years. It was an instructive report, and one that made me highly uncomfortable. I could almost believe by the end of it that I was a brutal, heartless man whose delight in pain exceeded that of the Chara's torturers. I wished I could have dismissed all this as the mere product of Andrew's fancy, but I had heard too many court cases over the years, and so I knew that even the most biased witness can provide a seed of truth amidst his slander. I wondered whether, in actual fact, some of my slaves were less satisfied in their service than I had assumed. 

Nevertheless, my new self-doubts about my worthiness as a master were not what Peter needed to hear at this time. When he finished – with his own description of what Andrew had looked like after his beating, a description that was both accurate and objective – he waited, sitting in an unconscious imitation of his father about to give judgment. 

I said, "Thank you, Lord Peter. I am grateful to both you and Andrew for sharing that witness with me." 

He waited again. When I spoke nothing more, he asked, "Aren't you even going to say whether the evidence is true?" 

We were sitting now by the fire, which Peter had allowed to die down after the departure of his southern-born servant. I looked down at the volumes scattered at my feet until I found the appropriate one: the volume containing the crime of false witness. I picked up the book, holding it flat on my palm as though weighing it. "Truth is a difficult beast to hunt. I could give you witness of the same events, and no doubt my account would be highly biased and filtered through my own narrow view of the world. When you become Chara, it will not be long before you attend your first case in which two witnesses, both telling what they believe to be the truth, give you directly contradictory accounts. That is when you will have to draw hardest upon your wisdom as the Chara." 

The morning light had shifted; it now fell full upon Peter, sitting with his tunic-flap open to the warmth and listening to me in watchful stillness. He asked, "How does one reconcile such accounts?" 

"All that I can teach you is the law; it is for your father to teach you how to make judgments. But one thing I have noticed about your father: where he cannot judge by the evidence, he judges by the man. You may recall my telling him recently that I admired his willingness to judge prisoners, not only by their crimes, but by the whole of their characters." 

This was a lower blow than I would ordinarily have made, for the "prisoner" in question had been Peter, who had committed the very real crime of touching the Chara's pendant. But if Peter was anything like his father, he would reach past my mention of this embarrassing incident to understand the broader issue involved. 

He was indeed like his father. When he spoke again, it was with no embarrassment, no hesitancy, but with firmness. "I owe you an apology, Lord Carle." 

"There is no need for one," I murmured. I could afford to let Peter free of my discipline, now that he understood the lesson. 

"There is every need for one. I had all the evidence necessary, from my previous conversations with you, to realize that you are not the simple villain that Andrew thinks you to be. If that was not witness enough, I ought to have remembered your kindness toward me." He rose suddenly, went over to a trunk sitting by his bed, and pulled open the lid. After a minute's search he brought out the emblem brooch I had given him. As he came back and reseated himself – I had not risen, for I reserved that custom for the Chara – Peter looked down at the brooch in his palm, tracing its outline with his finger. Then he pinned his tunic-flap closed with the brooch. 

"My father said that you could teach me about the Sword of Vengeance," he said, "but I think that you have really taught me as much today about the Heart of Mercy, treating me so gently after I accused you in such a shameful manner. Please tell me more about the law." 

And so, in that casual manner, I became Peter's tutor. 

o—o—o

"I won't memorize the Justification of the Law of Grave Iniquity," Peter said. "Nor will I memorize the Introduction or Description or Cases or Sentences. I am sick of the law, and if I never see another law book, I will consider myself the happiest boy in the Three Lands of the Great Peninsula." 

Nearly a year had passed, and we were standing in his father's sitting chamber, the place where we often studied during the mornings when Nicholas was busy in the court or the Map Room. This morning, barely enough time had passed for me to greet the tight-lipped son of the Chara and ask him to recite his previous day's work assignment before this flat announcement had been made. 

I waited a minute before replying, as much to keep hold of my own temper as to formulate my answer. It was not the best day for me to deal with a rebellious student. I had been up long past midnight, helping Lord Dean sort through a series of espionage reports from Koretia, which had been given to us by the Chara in the hope that we could assist him in untangling the lingering problems caused by the Jackal and his fellow rebels. Lord Dean had been ill-disposed toward me, for these reports could easily have been handled during the previous morning, had it not been for my daily tutoring obligations. He had therefore delegated most of the reports to me, saying that, since I was the council's authority on Koretia, he was sure I would enjoy the work. 

With dozens of facts about thefts, harassments, and murders still whirling in my head, I was not in the mood to face a refusal to memorize a few pages of text. I said sharply, "I suppose, Lord Peter, that you are requesting a break from your work so that you can spend several days sunning yourself in the inner garden while the rest of your father's subjects work from dawn till dusk." 

"The rest of my father's subjects have not been imprisoned in their quarters for ten years," replied Peter, banging shut the open law book I had just handed him. "Do you know what my daily schedule is like, Lord Carle? I wake around the time of the first trumpet and am mercifully allowed to do as I wish until the third trumpet. Then I read books until noonday. If I wish to break for a noonday meal, I may be allowed a few minutes to order one of my slave-servants to fetch me food, but afterwards I must return to my books. I continue reading books until the twelfth trumpet, when once again mercy is shown and I am allowed a recess for dinner. Then when, as you have just pointed out, most of my father's subjects have finished for the day, I must once more chain myself to my books and read until midnight. On rare occasions I may be allowed to attend a court case or a council meeting or some other palace function. Otherwise, I do nothing but spend my life reading the law and yes, I think it is time I was allowed a break." 

"Thank you for that pitiful recital of your woes," I said icily. I was standing by the hearth, attempting to warm myself during what was already proving to be one of the hardest winters in Emor's history. The Chara possessed one of the few hearths large enough to battle off the cold. "You have just described, with certain variations, my own schedule or that of any other senior council lord. I have always considered myself privileged since I learned that the Chara does not usually allow himself those 'merciful' breaks in the morning and the evening. It appears, however, that the Chara's son does not even possess the courage to take on the duties of a council lord. It is a good thing that we are discovering this now, before the council makes the mistake of confirming your worthiness for the Chara's office." 

Peter's face had slowly been turning red. Now, at my concluding words, the Chara's son took the volume he was holding and threw it so that it just missed going into the fire. It landed face-down on the floor-tiles, its binding tearing at the edge. He waited a moment to allow me to appreciate this move; he knew well that I regarded the law books as sacred objects. Then he said, "My father would have broken down even under my schedule if he had been tutored by a man who teaches by means of sarcasm, ridicule, and derision. The least of the free-men in this palace endure a lighter discipline than I do." 

"I use the tools of discipline that I am allowed to use toward the Chara's son," I replied, forcing my gaze away from the crumpled volume. "You are the Chara To Be, the heir to the throne, and words are the only weapons I am entitled to employ against you. Though you may not have recognized this from the sanctuary of your title, there are many men and boys in this palace who would willingly undergo the discipline I give you, rather than the discipline taken on by all other free-men." 

"I did not ask to be sheltered from the life of an ordinary man!" Peter had lost control of himself by now, and his voice was raised for the first time in my hearing. "I would far rather that you treated me as a boy like any other boy than that I should endure another moment of your so-called kindness." 

I felt a sickening in my stomach, realizing to what pass my careless words had brought us. There could be no turning now from the task I must do, though the very thought of it caused my palms to sweat. If anything was guaranteed to kill Peter's growing friendship with me, it was this. 

But whether our friendship survived or not, there would be certain benefits to his training if I carried this through. So, for the first time in Peter's presence, I allowed a cold smile to spread onto my face. I waited just long enough for the Chara's son to take alarm – I would have waited longer with anyone else, but I was eager to be over with this – and then I said in a soft voice, "Very well. Far be it from me to deny you the life of an ordinary schoolboy. Take off your clothes." 

Peter's eyes were wide, his mouth agape. "Why?" he asked. 

"You are no longer the Chara's son, who may ask his tutor such questions. By your own choice, you are now under my care and my discipline. Do as I say." 

Slowly, Peter's hand rose to his tunic-flap, and he undid the emblem brooch there. He painstakingly stripped himself of his clothes till he was standing shivering in his breechcloth. Keeping my voice gruff to cover my distaste for what I was instructing, I said, "Come lie stomach-down on this couch." 

He did so with sluggish movements and a dazed expression, as though he had suddenly found himself trapped in a nightmare. As he settled down on the couch, he placed his arms as a cushion for his head. He turned that head just in time to see me remove my sword-belt. 

I was dressed for the council; I unclipped my sheathed sword and placed it to one side, and then carefully wrapped the end of the jewelled belt around my hand, so that the smooth underside was facing outwards. Peter had turned pale, but he said nothing as I came forward to stand by him. 

I paused a moment, not to prolong his agony, but to gather my own courage for what was to follow. Then, exerting all my control to keep my voice steady, I said, "Soon you will be a man; I expect you to take this like a man." 

I brought the belt down onto his back. 

I kept the beating light, not only because I was loathe to treat him as I would have treated any other schoolboy, but also because this was Peter's first encounter with physical pain. Even so, I had to stop the punishment halfway through. Although he made no sound, I could see the tears escaping through his closed eyelids, and I decided that it would be too great a punishment if I were to continue to the point where he could no longer command himself. 

After I was through, I picked up the volume that Peter had thrown – it was the thickest of the law books – and placed it on the table next to the couch where he still lay, biting his lip. I spoke in a normal voice; the time for sarcasm was over. "Memorize the final subsection of the Justification of the Law of Vengeance, paying close attention to the passage on the Chara's burdens. I will return at the fifth trumpet." That would give him time, not only to memorize the passage twice over, but also to weep himself dry while he was alone. 

I departed by way of the Chara's sleeping chamber in order to give myself the opportunity to refasten my belt; it would not do to have people guess that I had been physically punishing the Chara's son. Rather than return to the sitting chamber and take the door to the main corridor, I left the Chara's quarters through the passage from the sleeping chamber that leads directly to the inner garden. The guards at the end of the passage gave me a startled look – usually, only the Chara took this route – and then ignored me as I exited the garden by the first doorway to the right. I doubled round to the front of the Chara's quarters – eliciting another startled look from the guards there, who had thought I was still inside with Peter – and made my way to the Map Room. 

A look of annoyance passed over Nicholas's face as I was announced to his presence, but he quickly covered this and greeted me warmly. He was standing at the table there, staring down at a great map of Koretia that I remembered helping him prepare near the end of the Border Wars four years before. 

"It is quiet there these days," he said, seeing me notice the map. "I doubt that we will have any large trouble for a few years yet, but I would like to put down the rebellion now, when it is at its weakest, rather than leave this as a legacy for my son to deal with in future years. He will have enough work to keep him occupied during peacetime." 

"So he was saying just now." I tried to keep my voice matter-of-fact, but a certain bitterness entered into my tone. Nicholas's eyebrows lowered as he took in my appearance. 

"Sit down and tell me," he instructed gently. 

I did so, and by the time I was finished, the fourth trumpet had called. It was not a court day, or I would not have found Nicholas here; nevertheless, I felt uneasy about the fact that I was keeping him from his work. He heard me out with no sign of impatience, and then said, "I hope that you have no doubts that I will support you in what you did." 

"I would not have done this if I had thought it would go against your wishes, Chara. I am not worried about the punishment – whether it helps or not will be plain in a short while – but about the mood in your son which caused me to have to punish him. I am upset with myself for failing to recognize that this was not a rebellion against a single assigned lesson but a rebellion against the whole life he presently leads." 

Nicholas nodded. We were sitting by the room's hearth, and the window shutters were closed, but even so he was wrapped in his outer cloak, and I saw his hands shiver as he held them out toward the fire. "Peter lives a hard life," he said. "It is one of the things I regret most, that I cannot give him an easier training than my father gave me." 

"His life will always be hard, Chara. The question is what form his discipline should take. It may be that the time has come for him to emerge from his harsh cocoon of studies and learn how to apply the law." 

Nicholas shot a glance at me, began to speak, and exploded into a raspy cough. I nearly reached out to grasp his arm. Stopping myself in time, I asked, "Are you all right, Chara?" 

He nodded, still coughing into his fist, before saying, "A slight cold; everyone in the palace has one at the moment. I am looking forward to springtime again – if it ever arrives. This weather is enough to make me move my palace to Koretia." 

"I doubt that you would want to live there year-round, if the summers there are still as I remember them. I recall that, in the final invasion, we lost as many soldiers from heatstroke as we did from battle wounds." 

"In every war, men die from odd causes. The Chara Rufus died from stepping on some nettles." 

"He was in a weakened condition at the time," I said. "It would have been more accurate to say that he died from overexertion, exacerbated by plant-poisoning. Koretia, though, seems to be a land where death consumes the living with frightening frequency." 

"I cannot help but agree with you. I often wonder whether I pronounced my own sentence of high doom, or that of my son's, when I made Koretia a dominion. Peter was nearly assassinated there on our last visit, you'll remember. That is why I have never allowed him to return to that land, despite his frequent pleas to go there. I suppose that such trips are the only way he has of escaping from his studies." 

I was silent, as I had already offered my opinion on the subject. Instead, I inspected the Chara's skin, which was spread tight on his face like white wax. His eyes, I noticed, seemed more yellow than usual. But it was not for me to raise the issue of Nicholas's health, so I kept my thoughts to myself. 

"Well, what are you suggesting?" the Chara asked me with ease. "That Peter end his studies and begin practicing his duties?" 

"I would not want him to abandon his studies altogether; there is still much for him to learn. But if he were to confine his studies to the evening, then he could fill the daytime with other activities: attending the court or council meetings, visiting the rooms of the palace officials to see how they work, and accompanying you on your visits to the army headquarters." 

"And learning bladeplay," added Nicholas. "He should have begun his sword lessons last winter, after he passed his fifteenth birthday. I have put that off for far too long, telling myself that, as Commander of the Armies, he will be well protected during battle and therefore need not be skilled with his blade. But some day he will wear the Sword of Vengeance, and I would not want that symbol to be an empty one." 

"If he returns to Koretia one day, he may need to know how to defend himself against an assassin," I said dryly. 

"I hope that, by the time Peter returns to Koretia, there will be no need for him to worry about assassins. If you have had a chance to look through the reports I gave Dean, you will see that, while the Jackal remains masked, some of my spies have received the impression that the rebel-leader is an old man. If this is the case, then it may be that he will die a natural death before Peter takes the throne." 

"There will still remain the problem of treason," I warned Nicholas. "No less than three town barons were arrested by the governor's soldiers last month, because they were working for the Jackal, plotting your assassination. You cannot be sure that such men will cease their activities if the Jackal dies." 

Nicholas nodded. "We have received another protest about those arrests – a claim that all those men were innocent." 

I snorted. "All of them? Two innocent men I might believe, but if you arrest three high noblemen at random in that land, chances are good that one of them will be plotting a murder. It is that sort of land." 

Nicholas nodded again, satisfied with my answer. We both knew of Koretia's bloody history and of how its people had clung to the blood feud as a method of revenge, like a madwoman clinging to a corpse. 

The fifth trumpet sounded faintly through the board-battened windows. Nicholas raised his head like a well-trained hunting dog receiving its call. "In a short time I am meeting here with the Daxion Ambassador – a sly man whose questions worry me. But I will not burden you with that tale now. I am grateful that you came to see me this morning; I will certainly take your advice about Peter's education. And you need not worry that Peter will blame you for what you did today. He is a boy who forgives much, as I know from my own dealings with him. Mercy runs thick in his veins." 

He had inherited his father's blood. But I did not say that; I simply rose and bowed, leaving Nicholas coughing once more beside the weak fire. 

I returned via the route by which I had come. The guards at the garden passage, having seen me leave the Chara's rooms through that exit, did not challenge my re-entrance. I was sure that Peter would have regained his composure by now, but I wanted to catch sight of him before he saw me, on the off-chance that he was still tending his wounds. 

He was not, but Andrew was doing so. 

The boys were straddling the reclining couch, facing the door through which they expected me to come. Andrew was running his fingers lightly across the pink welts on Peter's back. At one point Peter flinched, whereupon his slave-servant murmured something. Peter's reply was clear: "Oh, I'm sure that he punished me in a light enough manner, at least as far as his beatings normally go. Nothing like what he did to _you_." 

I felt a coldness steal over me, more chill than I had yet felt on this frigid winter. Despite the fact that I had continued to treat Andrew with the courtesy deserved by one of the Chara's household servants, the scene I was watching was one that I knew had occurred over and over. On several occasions I had disciplined Peter and had later witnessed Andrew whispering to him words of spite toward me. My respect for Peter had grown as I realized that these words had not affected him after our first encounter on the subject, but I had worked long enough in the poisonous atmosphere of palace politics to know that such venomous messages, when delivered over a lengthy period, ultimately taint relationships between even the closest of friends. 

Slowly, then, Andrew's actions had eroded the soft sheath of concern I had felt for the boy, so that all which remained between us was the naked blade of enmity. I was sure that, for Andrew, the blade had always been drawn. 

I watched now as he slowly touched Peter's back; he was evidently rubbing some ointment on it. He turned back toward the open jar behind him, and at that moment he saw me. There was the usual flash of hateful eyes I had come to expect. Then Andrew unhurriedly turned and touched Peter's shoulder in a friendly, intimate manner. 

I received only the briefest glimpse of Peter's abashed face before Andrew rose, collected the jar in his hand, and began walking toward the corridor door. 

"Andrew." I kept my voice quiet; I did not want a fight with Peter's slave-servant on top of everything else. I might as well have spared myself the effort. Andrew whirled around, his teeth bared like that of a wild dog on the attack, and stood with his gaze full upon me in a manner forbidden to slaves. 

I made no comment on this; it was not for me to discipline Peter's servant. I simply held out my hand. After a moment, Andrew stepped forward and slapped the jar down on my palm with such force that I would have stumbled if I were not always on the readiness for unexpected moves from the boy. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Peter was watching this, but he said nothing. He had continued his experiment of treating his slave with mercy, even though it was clear that the trial had long since failed and that Andrew was now the worst-disciplined servant in the palace. 

I waited until Andrew had gone before raising the jar enquiringly in Peter's direction. He said in a low voice, "Andrew had some left over from when he first came to me. He thought it might help." 

I placed the jar on the table next to him. "You have no need of it. As you pointed out just now, I did not punish you heavily." 

Peter swallowed, his right hand reaching out to touch the clothes beside him. I did not drop my gaze, and after a moment he pulled the undertunic over his head. He gave a small whimper as the cloth touched his back, and then was silent as he finished dressing himself. To my relief, he repinned the brooch I had given him. 

He needed something to keep his mind off his pain, so I asked, "Did you finish your memorization?" 

"Yes, Lord Carle." And without preliminary Peter began his recital, stumbling over the words that describe what the Chara's burdens are and why the Law of Vengeance exists to ease them. I could see that Peter would have to rememorize this passage at a later date, as it had made no impact on his mind, but I did not correct his mistakes. He had shown fine control in concentrating his mind well enough to memorize anything at all. When he was finished, I said, "Good. That will do for today." 

I rose and walked over to my sword, which was still lying where I had set it earlier, on a chair nearby. As I picked it up, Peter said, "I wanted to say . . ." 

"Yes?" Peter's voice had been low, but it had a firmness to it that prevented me from raising my eyes to him as I clipped the sheathed sword to the side of my belt. I could only pray that whatever words of reproach Peter spoke were his own, rather than Andrew's. 

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. It must have been hard for you to do what you did, and it wasn't fair for me to force you to undertake such a painful act." 

I think it was at that moment that I lost whatever worries I had ever held as to whether Peter would prove a worthy successor to his father. I sank down in the seat behind me, my mind filled with replies that would show my gratitude for his kindness. But all I said in the end was, "I am glad that you understand. Do you understand why I did it?" 

"Yes." His voice was shy once more, and he stared down at the hands folded upon his lap. "I needed to see that I live a privileged life compared to that of many others." 

I was silent a while, staring at his pale cheeks, on which the first fuzz of manly hair could be seen. There were two ways in which I could reply to this speech, and in the past I would have chosen the one which humbled him more. But he had just proven that he was capable of humbling himself. Now what he needed from me was sympathy, not further chastisement. 

"That is not for the least part what I was trying to show you," I said. "Except for your father, there is not a person in this entire land who leads a life as hard as the one you lead." 

His gaze flew up toward me. "But you said—" 

"I said that you are immune to physical punishment. This is true. I said that the senior council lords have a schedule as time-consuming as your own. This is also true. As long as you were speaking words of self-pity, you needed to be aware of these facts. But a more important fact is that none of the Chara's subjects, however heavy his burdens, carries the foremost burden of the Chara: his obligation to place thoughts of others before his own needs. You have shown by your words to me just now that you understand that burden and are willing to take it on. Your own father could not have spoken with greater maturity." 

His breathing became labored and his fists clenched, as though he was finding it harder to control his emotions now than when I had beaten him. Finally he said in a low voice, "I try to be like him. But it seems a hopeless task – he is such a great man." 

"He is indeed a great man, but he was not born that way. He had to learn his role, as you are learning and will continue to learn all your life. Part of that learning consists of recognizing the consequences of what you do and say. The reason that I punished you today was to give you confirmation of what you already suspected: that physical punishment is as nothing compared to the punishment inflicted by words. As the Chara, you will wield tremendous power with your words. If your words are healing, as your apology was, then you will do great good. But if your words are heedless and hurtful, as mine were earlier this morning, then you can bring great harm to those under your care." 

" _Your_ words!" exclaimed Peter. 

"Mine," I replied firmly, rising from my place. "You were quite right: you are in need of a break from your studies. It was thoughtless of me to disagree with you about that. We will meet again a fortnight from now, and until then, my instructions to you are to touch not a single law book, but to refresh your spirit in whatever way brings you most enjoyment." 

I had reached the door before Peter was able to regain his tongue. He cried out, "Lord Carle!" 

I turned. Peter was standing motionless by the hearth, his mouth turned up in a faint smile. His eyes looked far too wise for a child who had still not reached his sixteenth year. 

He said quietly, "I am sure that this is a break for you as well as for me. But if you are not too busy and could stand seeing your student on occasion, would you be willing to stop by and visit me during the next couple of weeks? I can think of nothing I would enjoy better than your company." 

I bowed to him, as I had not done since he became my student. "It will be my pleasure," I said, "to do as the Chara's son wishes."


	5. Description | 1

##  **_Law of Vengeance 2_**

##  **DESCRIPTION**

> _Description (law term):_ Passage within a law that describes the exact nature of the law, drawing where necessary on references to related laws.

  
**CHAPTER ONE**  
**986 a.g.l.**  


> _No better lesson to the interwoven nature of the law can be found than in the Description, where a law is not only described but related to other laws. Just as a man's character is shaped by his relationships to the people around him, so too is a law shaped by the other laws that exist._

  
o—o—o

"For your sake, Lord James, I hope that you are not consulting a volume containing laws related to ambassadorial visits." 

James stared up at me blankly. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner of the council library, having somehow managed the feat of bringing the book over from the desk to which it was chained. After a moment he scrambled to his feet, bowed, and smiled as he said, "No fear of that, Lord Carle. Believe me, since last month I have kept well away from the Koretian Ambassador and have even felt great trepidation about conversing with him at public functions. My research this afternoon is unrelated; I wished to refresh my knowledge about the laws related to judgeship." 

"Because of today's meeting, I take it?" As I spoke, I sat down in the chair opposite to him. 

James nodded, seating himself on top of the desk from which he had taken the book. "There seem to be a great number of laws on the subject scattered throughout the volumes." 

"Please do not sit on the desk, Lord James. That bookcase you are leaning against is quite old and is not prepared to support your energetic young body. And please be kind enough to return the book to where it belongs, rather than leaving it lying on the dusty floor." I waited until James had sheepishly complied before asking, "And what have you concluded from your research?" 

"Just that the law is a very odd master. I see, for example, that if someone steals goods that are intended for governmental use – even so much as a copper coin – he is not tried by any of the lesser judges, but instead is charged with the high crime of disobedience to the Chara, since all goods and powers are considered to be reserved for the Chara unless the law says otherwise. It is hard for me to believe that such a trial ever happens." 

"The Koretian governor would be able to confirm the use of that law if he were still alive today," I said dryly. "I fail to see, though, what relation this has to today's discussion." 

"Just ideas rolling around in my mind, Lord Carle." 

"Well, if you have any ideas, you had best tell them to me now, while you have the chance. I hope that you were not expecting me to call on you during the meeting." 

James, who had apparently decided that the only alternative to sitting on a desk was to sit back down on the floor, grinned up at me. "It would surprise me a good deal if you did. You made it clear when I first arrived that you do not allow new lords to speak at meetings until you are confident that they have thoughts worth listening to." 

"Yet you continue to request speaking rights at the meetings." 

James cocked his head at me. "Well, Lord Carle, I don't know when you _will_ find me worth listening to. It has seemed best to keep asking until that time." 

I stared down at the young lord, remembering how he had appeared on the first occasion I saw him: dressed in a rustic green tunic with a villagers' cap perched jauntily on his head. Now, having received five weeks' worth of a council lord's pay, he was dressed in a maroon tunic of fine linen with gold lining, and he had replaced his old leather sheath with a new one made of well-burnished bronze. His tunic-flap brooch, I noticed, was of a matching design. I decided I would have to remember to give James one of my lectures on the importance of balancing the demands of formality with the need to be unpretentious. 

My thoughts on this matter were cut off, though, by the entrance of the porter, who said, "Good day to you, High Lord. The other lords have arrived." 

"Have you checked all the council rooms?" My question was uttered automatically. Our previous porter had caused trouble by not clearing the council quarters of unauthorized persons before meetings. 

"Yes, Lord Carle, but is this still an open meeting?" 

"It is. We have visitors, then?" 

"Just one, Lord Carle: the Koretian Ambassador. He says that he cannot stay for the whole meeting, so I have seated him near the door." 

I nodded, and the porter left. 

"The Ambassador seems to take a great interest in life at the palace." James, who had risen from his place, began refastening his sword to his belt. "I have seen him ducking in and out of rooms everywhere." 

"The Ambassador has always shown a keen interest in matters that are not strictly his business. It will be interesting to see at what point he leaves the meeting." 

James raised his eyebrows. "You think he is gathering information for the Jackal?" 

"He would be a poorly trained ambassador if he were not. Ambassadors are in some ways more valuable to rulers than spies, since they cannot be questioned if caught. That is why the Chara always take great care to have foreign ambassadors watched during their visits, to be sure that they do not wander into places where they should not be." 

James looked as though he was also hoping to gather information, but at that moment the seventh trumpet sounded. He said, "I will see you in a short while, then, Lord Carle." 

I watched as the young lord bowed and left the room, shutting the door behind him. James needed time to reach his place, so I turned to the desk where he had been sitting before and took up the slim volume he had consulted, in order to replace it on the bookcase atop the two-sided desk. To my annoyance, I found that he had closed the book with such haste that he had folded one of the pages over. I opened the book and discovered that he had been reading the prologue to the law-structure – specifically, the passage on the duties of the council. For a moment more, my annoyance continued, this time caused by the fact that James ought to have had this passage well-memorized. Then a question formed itself in my mind. 

The library was still, but for the muffled voices of the council lords in the great chamber next door. The first time I had visited this place, I had been twenty-two years of age and had never been in a room filled with so many books. I had browsed for several minutes through the volumes with their old leather bindings and their ancient contents of law. In the end, I had come close to bursting into tears. 

I had never lost that feeling of sacred mystery that James had touched upon when speaking in the Chara's quarters a month before, but unlike James, I was not the type to utter such thoughts, even when alone with Peter. 

I forced myself away from the bookcase and went to the library door. As I opened the door, I stood for a moment at the threshold, with the musty scent of paper behind me and the babble of voices in front of me. The lords were seated around the long, oval council table, leaning casually back against the high-backed chairs that were each carved with the royal emblem. As I entered, the room was filled with the sound of chatting and laughter. Then the lords caught sight of me, and silence suddenly muffled the chamber, but for the sound of every man rising to his feet. 

The porter cried, a few seconds late of the fact, "All rise! The High Lord approaches." He waited until I had reached the head of the table before continuing, "Let it be known to all that the Great Council of Emor is now opened. This is the two hundred and forty-seventh meeting of the nine hundred and eighty-sixth year since the giving of the law. May no man speak in this place who does not fear the law and have reverence toward its power." 

As he spoke, my gaze drifted down the table, past the nine other senior lords and the twenty junior lords. At the bottom of the table, next to the junior-most lord, James, was the empty chair for the council's guest. Far beyond that, at the far end of the room, was Andrew, standing at alert near the main doors of the council quarters. I supposed that it was childish of me to feel triumph at his pose, but it had been many years indeed since Andrew had last been forced to show respect toward me. 

The porter ended his herald call. I waited a moment for the echo to die in the chamber before saying, "Lords, you may be seated." 

I paused until they had finished shuffling back into their seats. Then I leaned forward and placed my fingertips lightly on the table, saying, "We have much business to cover today: a letter of request from Judge Seymour, the subcommanders' reports, the latest communication from the High Lord of Koretia, and the monthly summary of meetings in the lesser councils. I think that we should deal with matters in that order. Lord Neville, will you be kind enough to describe the judge's letter?" 

I pushed the sheet in his direction as I seated myself. I had been scrutinizing Andrew as I spoke, but he was too far away for me to see his expression well, and I could read nothing from his pose to indicate which business he had come here to listen to. 

Next to me, Lord Neville said, "Two days ago the Chara received a letter from his cousin Seymour, Town Judge of Brookside in Southern Emor. In it, the judge asks that he be granted the title of Lord of the Chara's Palace, thus becoming a non-voting member of this council. He states that he wishes this in order that he might take part in our meetings and become better acquainted with Emor's high matters, but reading behind the words I think we may assume that he simply wants to gain influence with the council lords and persuade us to overturn our decision not to confirm him as the Chara's heir. The Chara has passed on the request to us for our consideration, without offering any recommendation of his own." 

I had my eye on the end of the table, where the junior-most lords had been whispering amongst themselves since the mention of Seymour's name, frantically exchanging what little information they knew about the judge. Within a short time, all of the whispers began to be directed toward James. James, who had not sought information from anyone, removed his gaze from the head of the table, long enough to scribble a note which he passed on to the lord next to him. This then was passed amongst the inquiring junior lords as though it were a proclamation from the Chara. 

Several of the senior lords had their right palms on the table, but I ignored them, saying, "Lord Matthew, you were amongst the lords who examined the judge prior to his coming-of-age. Perhaps you would like to review this council's dealings with the judge for the benefit of those of your fellow junior lords who are presently seeking information from less reliable sources." 

The heads of the junior-most lords swung with one accord toward James. He, however, continued to stare straight ahead, impassively. I had early on noted this remarkable transformation James underwent at council meetings and had attributed it to his training as a village judge, for all Emorian judges are required to listen to testimony in an expressionless manner, though only one man in our land wears the face of the Chara in judgment. 

Lord Matthew looked pleased, as I rarely called upon my junior lords so early in the meeting. In fact, Matthew had greater age and experience than a few of the senior lords, but I had passed him up on several occasions when a senior lordship became vacant. This was not due to any lack of ability on his part, for he had great tact and sympathy with his fellow lords. Rather, I made my decision because Matthew had become an unofficial leader to the junior lords, and helped keep those lords from straying away from council customs. 

I knew that I could depend on him to give an elementary report for the sake of the most ignorant lords. And, indeed, he said with the patience of a schoolmaster, "High Lord, I'm sure that you and the other lords recall that the judge is the only other member of the royal family as defined by the Law of Succession, and he is therefore the only man qualified by law to be the Chara's heir. Fourteen years ago, Judge Seymour came of age and presented himself to this council, asking that we name him Chara To Be, the title he had unofficially held since the Chara Peter's enthronement. As you know, the council has always confirmed the title in cases where the heir presumptive was the Chara's son, since the Charas properly train their sons for the throne. Nevertheless, there have been a few cases over the centuries where the heir presumptive was not raised in the palace and received a poor training in the law as it relates to high matters. In such cases, the council has exercised its right to refuse the throne to the heir presumptive. This was one such case." 

Several of the senior lords had their hands back on the table. I looked around and said, "Lord Wolcott." 

"High Lord, I do not understand why the Chara has asked us to deal with this matter once more. Surely we made our wishes clear fourteen years ago, and the Chara must know that we remain firm in our belief that the judge is ill-qualified for the throne. Indeed, that fact became even more clear after Seymour rejected the Chara's offer that he move to the palace and receive the training of the Chara To Be." 

I flicked my hand toward another of the senior lords; the dozen or so lords whom I called upon regularly knew my slight gestures well enough that I usually did not need to call upon them by name. 

Lord Hamilton said, "The judge is not asking this time for the title of Chara To Be, but for the title of Lord of the Chara's Palace." 

Lord Wolcott glanced my way for permission before saying, "The two titles have always been held together." 

"The law regards the two titles as separate, though," said Lord Gunther, who had kept his eye on me, ready to jump into the conversation the moment I looked his way. "The Chara Peter never officially held the title of Chara To Be, since his coming-of-age coincided with his father's death. Even so, he did officially hold the honorary title of Lord of the Chara's Palace and was a member of this council." 

Lord Neville said, "It seems to me ridiculous to make fine distinctions of the law in this matter. It is clear that if the council were to give the judge the title he has requested, it would be tantamount to saying that we were willing to reconsider the question of whether he should become the Chara To Be." 

"Yet it is a question which this council may need to reconsider in face of the Consort's continued inability to produce an heir." This was Lord Terence, always prepared to stir up trouble at the council, but too senior to ignore. "It has been ten years now since the Chara married, and we must be prepared to face the possibility that the Chara will not beget an heir. In that case, what will happen upon the Chara's death? All of us know the answer: the lesser courts, under the influence of Seymour, will try to force this council to reverse its decision. If we do not, there will be civil war over who gains the throne." 

"We may be forced in the end to accept the judge," said Lord Diggory. "What alternative do we have?" 

Diggory was a gloomy old man who was innocently dwelling on the grave situation that the council faced, but I knew that others present at the table were thinking of the alternative that Lord Terence had tiptoed around. Better, then, that the matter be dealt with directly, and so I looked toward the junior lord who could be depended on to raise forbidden topics. "Lord Luther," I murmured. 

"High Lord, it seems to me that we are sidetracking from the main issue. If the problem is that the Consort has not produced an heir, then surely the simplest solution—" 

"Lord Luther!" I allowed my voice to reverberate with shock. "If you are suggesting what I think you are, may I remind you that the council voted on that issue only two years ago, and that I exercised the High Lord's Privilege to reject that solution. I hope you do not think that I have wavered in my beliefs since then." 

"No, High Lord," mumbled Luther. 

I looked further down the table. Now that the most dangerous topic had been dealt with, there was no harm in allowing a few of the junior-most lords to offer their opinions. The correspondence at that end of the table had continued between James and the others, and it would be interesting to see how much influence he was having on his fellow lords. "Lord Hubert." 

Hubert looked up from James's latest note, startled to be called upon. "Lord Matthew," he said, forgetting council custom in his rush to be heard, "you said that the Law of Succession defines the judge as the only member of the royal family. Could not the law be changed to allow the Chara's more distant kin to qualify for the office? I believe that a few of the Chara's other relatives have lived in the palace for many years." 

Matthew looked my way, careful to decline answering this ill-addressed remark. I glanced over at Lord Neville, knowing that he would not stray from the law in his reply. 

"I believe that the Chara has considered such a solution and rejected it," he said. "In any case, it is not for this council to tell the Chara how to revise laws. Or have you forgotten the division of powers?" 

I suppressed a smile. Neville's respect for that division was what had caused me to appoint him as my senior-most lord. I could depend on him, at least, not to spend his hours figuring out ways to steal power from the Chara. 

The other junior lords quickly pulled their hands from the table. A moment of silence followed, and then, for the first time at this meeting, James placed his right hand forward on the dark wood of the ancient table. 

It was as clear a challenge as any, and one which ordinarily I would have ignored. But my curiosity had been raised by James's research that day, and I was interested to see just how far he would press this issue. "Lord James," I said, "did you have a comment to offer on the matter?" 

There was a rustle as all of the council lords turned to look James's way. Too late, I realized that this was the earliest I had ever called upon a new lord; this would mark James out from the rest of the junior lords. 

Nearly hidden at the end of the table, James rose to his feet and paused a moment to look around steadily at the twenty-nine lords above him. Beyond him I could see the still figure of Andrew, sitting with his hands folded on his lap. 

"High Lord," he said – he at least respected council custom enough to address his remark to me – "I am sure that all of us hold great reverence for the division of powers, which grants the Chara and the council independent duties, and which balances the control of government. But the law-structure says that the council lords – including, by ancient definition, the Chara – must accept each other's judgments. If this council were to offer its strong opinion that the Law of Succession should be revised, would not the Chara be compelled to accept the council's advice?" 

My eyes flicked for a moment toward Andrew, still sitting motionless by the door. This, then, was the meaning of James's research. I found myself rising to my feet. The other lords had been whispering throughout James's calm speech, but now a hush descended on the table. The lords knew that I did not stand during meetings except when dealing with serious problems. 

"Lord James," I said, "you are not in the Court of Judgment. I feel the need to remind you of that, because it is for the Chara alone to decide when to issue a proclamation overruling the division of powers. In this matter, as in most others, the council is the Chara's servant, and I am sure that the Chara would not be happy to find a council lord trespassing on his rights." I held James's gaze a moment more before saying, "Lord Neville, what do you conclude that we should do in this matter?" 

James had already reseated himself before I returned to my chair. His hand remained off the table for the rest of the meeting. But my mind stayed on the young lord, crowding out thoughts of all that was happening around me. For this reason, it was not until I had arrived at the point of reading a letter from Hollis, High Lord of the Jackal's Council, that I looked over toward the doorway again. By that time, Andrew was gone. 

o—o—o

I had intended to speak to James after the meeting but was taken aside by Lord Neville, who wished to give me his own opinion of the young lord's arrogance. I agreed with all that he said, and then went in search of the Chara. 

He was not in his quarters. Lady Ursula was there, however, staring dreamily out of the sitting-chamber window facing south. She said, "Peter is walking in the garden, I believe. Is there anything I can help you with?" 

"Not unless you can advise me on how to deal with a troublesome junior lord." 

She laughed. On this day she was wearing a new Koretian gown that I guessed her brother had brought with him from their native land. Pinned above her heart was a small Jackal's mask, an old gift from the Koretian ruler, though she was careful to wear the badge only in the privacy of her husband's quarters. 

"Lord James again?" she said. "I really wouldn't worry about him if I were you. It takes time for anyone to become adjusted to palace life. I remember the first time that I walked into the Court of Judgment: everyone's head turned to look at me, and I was ready to die of fright. I suppose this may be hard for you to understand, since you've lived in the Chara's palace for so many years." 

"On the contrary, Lady Ursula, I have a vivid memory of my first visit to the court, and it matches your own." 

"When did that occur?" The Chara's Consort gestured me into a seat but remained standing herself. She was a restless woman, and when she first arrived, she had created a scandal by skipping her way down the southern corridor. Of course, she had been fourteen years old at the time, only a year into womanhood. It had not taken long before Peter had gently taught her the conduct proper to her position. 

"Over forty years ago," I replied. "I was twenty-two at the time and working in the army headquarters as a lieutenant, but had never had the opportunity to visit the court. This was in the days of the Chara Anthony, your husband's grandfather." 

"What was he like?" 

"From what I have heard, a hot-tempered man, inclined to lean heavily toward vengeance in his judgments, but for the most part just. I only met him once – it was on this particular occasion." 

"On your first visit to the court?" Ursula had been pacing up and down the chamber as we spoke. Now she paused and flung herself onto the reclining couch, resting her chin upon her palm as though she were listening to a Daxion bard. 

"Yes, indeed. I was standing next to the doors to the court anteroom because I was afraid to watch anything but the Chara's back while he was in the court; I had heard about the awesome face that the Chara wears when he is in judgment. I ended up receiving a good view of that face, though, for as the Chara Anthony was leaving the court, he stopped and stared at me." 

"What in the name of the dead Charas did he do that for?" 

"That was the question foremost in my mind, of course. I had almost never before been inside the palace, and I was convinced that I must have forgotten some important custom. I even thought of going down on one knee, as though I were a Daxion meeting his ruler. The Chara only paused for a moment, and then he continued on. I was greatly relieved – until I arrived back at my tent and found a page there, summoning me to the Chara's presence." 

Ursula had gradually sunk lower and lower on the couch until she was lying on her stomach. Her feet suddenly kicked up, and I carefully adjusted my gaze to the other side of the chamber so that I would not be staring at her bare legs. 

I doubt that she noticed. She said, "What a peculiar thing to happen. Had you broken a law, or did the Chara take one look at you and realize that you were a future High Lord?" 

I laughed. My gaze drifted back to Ursula, innocently kicking the air with her feet. "The minute I arrived in the Chara's quarters, I knew that I had done something terrible. The Chara Anthony was still wearing the same expression as in the court, and though for all I knew this was the way he always looked, he seemed very stern in his questions. He asked me who I was and where I came from, and gradually steered the conversation around to my ancestors." 

"Your ancestors?" 

"One in particular – at least, I began to gather where the conversation was headed, and so I volunteered the information that my great-grandfather had been the Chara Purvis. At that point, the Chara gave me a look so severe that I was convinced he would use the Sword of Vengeance on me." 

"Why would he be angry?" asked Ursula. "I would have thought he would be pleased to meet someone who was his kin." 

"I had thought so as well. As it was, I could not imagine what I had done wrong, so I began telling him everything I could about my family connection with the line of the Charas. Eventually, I hit on the information that he was searching for: that one of my family heirlooms was a brooch." 

"A brooch?" 

"A royal emblem brooch – the one that your husband now wears. I had been wearing it that day in the court." 

Ursula's feet suddenly stilled. She jerked into a sitting position. "By the gods of night and day! You wore the royal emblem to the _court_?" 

"I was young and naive. My father had left me the brooch when he died the year before. My grandfather Carle, the second son of the Chara Purvis, had received it from his father as a gift. Of course he ought not to have, since he was not in the direct line of succession, but I suppose that the Chara Purvis had given him sufficient warning at the time. It was then inherited by my father, who married an orchard farmer's daughter, my mother. Unfortunately, the warning was not passed on to me, so I innocently wore the brooch to the court, thinking that wearing the royal emblem would be a way to honor the Chara." 

"Did you explain all this to the Chara Anthony?" Ursula asked. She was on her feet again, kicking around a nut on the floor. No doubt James had been here recently, littering the chamber. 

"Yes, though I still didn't know what I had done wrong. By the time I had finished, the Chara was smiling. He patiently explained to me why it was that no one but the Chara and the Chara To Be may wear the royal emblem." 

"If he had a bad temper, it was good of him to treat you gently." 

"He told me that he had never thought I had done anything deliberately wrong – I suppose I seemed too ingenuous for that. He was simply afraid that someone had been using me as a tool. The Chara might as well have shouted at me, though. I stood there petrified, trying to remember which law subsection provided the penalties for being a pretender to the throne. I was convinced that I was about to be placed under the high doom." 

Ursula laughed once more. She picked up the nut with a swift motion, lobbed it my way, and nodded her praise as I caught it with one hand. "I suppose that it took you some time to recover from such an encounter." 

"The Chara did a good deal to ease my discomfort. I offered to give him the brooch, but he told me that it would be permissible for me to keep it, as long as I warned my son about the consequences of wearing it." 

"So you solved the problem by giving it to Peter." 

I said, keeping my voice unemotional, "I have no son, so it seemed best in later years to give the brooch to the Chara To Be. It pleases me to see the brooch being put to use, rather than lying in a box. . . . As for the Chara Anthony, he talked with me for a while longer, asking about the work I had done over the years. I told him that from an early age I had accompanied my father to our village council, and that I missed those meetings. The Chara nodded, said that it is often hard to find a profession that suits one's talents, and then sent me on my way. And that was my one meeting with the Chara Anthony." 

"Except . . . ?" Ursula had a gleam in her eye. She was perceptive enough to see which way the story was headed. 

"Except that a week later my captain sent me with a message to the council quarters, and there, seemingly by accident, I fell into conversation with a man named Godfrey, who eventually revealed himself to be the High Lord. Before our conversation was through, it was settled that I would come to work as a scribe for the council clerk." 

"The Chara Anthony arranged this." 

"I have never had any proof, but yes, I believe I owe my council career to him. I worked two years as a scribe, and then spent another twelve years as a law researcher, during which time I became acquainted with the Chara Nicholas, who had succeeded his father. It was he who recommended my admittance to the Great Council. After that, he was kind enough to extend to me his friendship, and he taught me so much about the law that I became a senior lord. And of course I now owe my High Lordship to your husband. I will never be able to pay my debts to the Charas." 

"It is hard knowing what gifts one can give to the Chara," Ursula said, and I thought I caught a trace of wistfulness. In the next moment, however, she bounded to the door and said, "I am keeping you from finding Peter. I know what sort of schedule you noblemen keep, and I wouldn't want you to be working until dawn to make up for talking to me now. If you see Peter, tell him that I'm not sure whether he wants me to wait for him tonight before I order dinner. Tell him— Well, just tell him that." 

o—o—o

The inner garden is the size of the village I grew up in, so I suppose that I ought to have known better than to try to find Peter among the bush-covered hills. Dusk had arrived before I finally abandoned my search and sat down on the moist ground, with my back to one of the stone walls. From this angle I had a fine view of the pale pink sky serving as a backdrop to the white and grey clouds that continually sweep over Emor. It was an October scene of delicacy and subtlety, in contrast to the harsh Koretian sunsets that paint the sky with fire. 

With my mind on the beauty of Emor's sky, some time passed before I became aware of the voices that had been speaking for several minutes on the other side of the wall. The voice that caught my attention first was one I could never have mistaken: it was tense with restraint and shortened vowels. 

" . . . grant you that Brendon had little experience with military matters before his appointment," the voice was saying. "But ten years of work as the Jackal's subcommander is training enough, I think. And he worked for ten years before that as one of the Jackal's thieves. He was John's best fighter during those years." 

"Being a rebel is hardly the same as subcommanding an army." The other voice was relaxed and confident. "No, but we're not going to agree on this. And the dead Charas alone know that I have heard enough about Brendon from Ursula. She seems to think that the only reason I didn't pick Brendon as Koretia's ruler is because John was available." 

"You should listen to her. Brendon may not have the imperial armies to subcommand, but that actually gives him certain advantages your own chief subcommander does not possess – what is his name again?" 

"Rudolph." 

"Rudolph. . . . Is he the one who helped your father to coordinate the attack on the Koretian capital? I thought you had planned to replace him with Malise." 

Up until this point, my thoughts had been on how I could depart from this scene unnoticed. Now, with this turn in the conversation, I began to pay attention to what was being said. 

Peter chuckled. "Andrew, I think you have been studying more than law books since I saw you last." 

"Oh, the rumors were all over the place when I travelled to Arpesh last year. They were saying you no longer trusted Rudolph's military advice after the battles there." 

"I didn't know that you had been in the dominions." Peter's voice remained carefree, as though he were unaware that Andrew's every word was an attack on his military capabilities. 

"I'd planned to stop here on my way back, but I kept running into imperial soldiers who were disgruntled at the way that the battles had gone and were eager to take their anger out on a foreigner. I ended up going back by one of those illegal ships that is mad enough to attempt the Koretian Straits during the spring floods." 

"You were lucky to make it back home, then. I've been training a navy at the mouth of the Koretian Straits for the past three springs." 

There was a pause, broken only by the whistling evening wind. I was glad that the dark was descending upon us. I was eager to listen unnoticed to what Andrew said next. 

What he said was an eerie echo of my own thoughts. "By the Jackal's eyes, Peter, are you this candid with all your ambassadors?" 

Peter's voice was warm as he said, "Only the ones I trust – which is to say, only you. The Jackal knows anyway. You needn't worry that I'll share secret information with you which you would feel obliged to report to him." 

"I'm glad of that. I wouldn't want to have to choose between being disloyal to you or to John." 

"Or possibly to both of us." 

This time, the silence extended longer. Whichever man spoke next, I expected his remark to be quiet, but Peter had a note of defiance to his voice as he said, "Well, it's the truth." 

"It is quite true. What do you expect me to say? I gave you all the apologies I could ten years ago, and I thought that you accepted them at the time." Andrew's voice was cool. 

"You're so cursedly cold-blooded, Andrew. Can't you look upset about it for one moment?" 

"No. You know I can't. And you know why." 

Peter's voice was gentler when he spoke next. "It has been ten years since I saw you last. I thought that you might have lost that mask of indifference after all this time." 

"It will take me more than a few decades to recover from three years under the care of Carle." 

I had been sitting still until now, feeling my muscles ache from holding my pose, but I had been trained as a young man to remain still for many hours. At this point in the conversation, though, I became so rigid that I felt as though the stones behind me were more capable of movement than I. 

"So," Peter said, "while we're on the subject, what do you think of my High Lord? Does he seem any different to you than in the old days?" 

"Not much." 

"You can be more honest with me than that, Andrew." 

"Some other time, perhaps. Right now, I think that Lord Carle wants to speak with you. You'll find him eavesdropping on the other side of this wall." 

Autumn leaves rattled on the bushes, doves cooed from their hideaways under the palace roof's overhang, and there was silence behind me. Then Peter crowed with laughter. I heard Andrew murmur a farewell; Peter bounded over the wall and collapsed down beside me, still laughing. I remained paralyzed, and my face burned with embarrassment. 

"I think that you have just handed Emor a great defeat, Carle," Peter said when he had managed to control himself. "Former Chara's spy meets former Jackal's thief, and the Jackal wins out. I hope this isn't a portent for the upcoming war." 

"I did not mean to listen in on your private conversation, Chara," I said stiffly. 

"Of course you didn't," he replied with ease. "But this is just like old times. I remember that, whenever I used to say something sympathetic to Andrew while he was recounting your atrocities, you would choose that moment to walk into the room. I used to wonder what evil I was paying for, that my two closest friends should hate each other." 

I said nothing, and after a minute Peter added softly, "It is just the same now, isn't it?" 

"As Lord Andrew observed, I have not changed. It appears that he has not changed either." 

"He tried to offer you an apology ten years ago." 

"Perhaps the timing was poor." But I did not want to speak to Peter about that night, so I said, "Speaking of timing, do you think the eve of war is the best time to be discussing military information with the Koretian Ambassador?" 

"Please don't start, Carle." There was an edge to Peter's voice. "Neither you nor Andrew have ever been able to see any good in one another, and I'm tired of having to explain to each of you why I trust the other." 

I bowed my head in acknowledgment of the reproof. "I apologize, Chara; I ought not to have offered advice unasked. In fact, it is your own advice I came seeking, in relation to Lord James." 

Peter sighed. "What has the scamp been up to now?" 

I told him, and by the time I was finished, the moon had risen high in the sky. The season was moving toward mid-autumn, and I could see that Peter was ashiver, despite the fact that the wind had ceased. I began to rise, but he forestalled me with his hand, saying, "Well, you were right in what you told James. I am _not_ happy at his trying to infringe on my powers. Did you speak to him later?" 

"I did not have the chance, but I will certainly do so before the next meeting. I am not optimistic that my words will have any effect, though. I have overheard him make this type of suggestion on several occasions to the other lords." 

"You think the matter is growing serious?" 

"I fear so, though it has not yet reached the point where I will have to place him under the council's discipline." 

"If it ever reaches that point, Carle, then send him to me first. I will try to put the fear of the Chara upon him." Peter's voice was light, but I could see his eyes in the moon's glow, and they glittered like ice. 

"I pray that it won't come to that," I said sincerely, and Peter laughed. Then his mouth stretched into a yawn. 

I stared at him, astonished; the evening was only half finished. "Are you getting enough sleep, Chara?" 

"Did I ever?" he replied, smiling. "I admit I was up too late last night, though. I was going through one of the half dozen plans which Rudolph has put together for a possible Koretian invasion. You will be happy to know that that is _not_ information which I passed on to Andrew." 

"If you are so busy, then I should not have been bothering you with the matter of Lord James. The council ought to take care of its own, in any case." 

"I can tell you which law that phrase comes from." A dimple appeared in Peter's cheek. "And which page, for that matter. Thus are the benefits of a fine schooling. But I don't offer my services as a way to jump the boundary between Chara and council; it is a matter of friendship only. Friendship goes beyond the dictates of the law." 

"It ought not to, Chara. You are sworn not to favor any man." 

"An old argument between us, Carle; we won't be able to settle it sitting here on this damp grass. Would you care to join me for dinner?" 

A note of guilt entered my voice as I said, "I ought to have told you earlier, Chara – Lady Ursula was uncertain whether to wait dinner for you." 

"Ursula?" For a moment, I would have sworn that Peter could not identify the name. "Well, have no worries; she is used to my erratic schedule. Come, let us find a warm fire and flee our respective troubles."


	6. Description | 2

**CHAPTER TWO**   
**986 a.g.l.**   


> _More than one intended student of the law has failed in his calling when confronted with the intricate phraseology of the Description. It is for this reason that tutors often do not require beginning students to memorize this section, for questions asked at an early stage of learning may find clearer answers at a later stage._

  
o—o—o

As it happened, three days passed before I received the opportunity to talk to James. During that time I was kept busy by a daily torrent of letters from Hollis, the Koretian High Lord, as well as from Brendon, the Jackal's subcommander. 

By law I ought not to have been corresponding with an army official, and indeed our letters were not on official matters at all. While the relationship between me and Subcommander Brendon was reserved – it appeared that Andrew had done his best to tarnish my reputation with the Koretians – Brendon was one of those gifted soldiers who did not allow his personal feelings to interfere with any opportunity to get to know his enemies better. As a result, he and I had been carrying on a civilized debate for several years about the proper methods of army discipline. In private life, the Koretian subcommander was said to be easygoing, amiable, and gentle with his friends, and much of this carried over into his work. He allowed his men many liberties and gave them independence in carrying out their duties – but he left his subordinates in no doubt that he expected those duties to be carried out properly. 

It was this which caused my uneasiness with Peter's belief that Emor could win a war against Koretia. I did not know the Jackal well, nor did I know the many details about the Jackal's army that were available to Peter and his subcommanders. But I knew the Jackal's subcommander, and I could guess from his letters what type of army he had trained. 

I did not have Andrew's liberty to raise this issue with Peter. It would be fair to say that, except for certain work I had done in Koretia during my years in the army, I had never practiced Andrew's sort of liberty, for Andrew's concept of liberty was great indeed. I happened across him talking with the porter about the council rules of discipline, discussing with a soldier the man's difficulties in obtaining entrance to the army headquarters, and even conversing in an undertone with the Chara's taciturn private messenger. I was not at all pleased by this evidence that Andrew evidently had interests in the palace which extended beyond his negotiations with the Chara. I did not interfere, though, until the afternoon when I found Andrew sitting in the council library, chatting with James. 

I could not see either man clearly. James had evidently taken his usual spot on the floor in the far corner of the library, but he was hidden by the desk in front of him. Sitting on this desk was Andrew, with his spine against the desk's central bookcase and the back of his dark Koretian head showing over the top of the books. 

He was saying, "No, it was because the law interprets attempted murder as being the same as murder. But surely you know this already. Peter tells me that Carle requires all of his lords to memorize the law-structure, the division of powers, and the Justifications of the Great Three." 

I leaned against the wall next to the library entrance, folding my arms. I was not hidden behind a wall this time; if Andrew wanted to discuss me in my own council quarters, he would have to take the consequences. 

James said, "Oh, I had all that memorized long ago. Sometimes I couldn't afford to buy law books, so I would borrow them from a town judge I knew and memorize the important parts; I can recite most of the major laws by heart. But this judge was the only person I knew with whom I could discuss the law, and that makes all the difference, talking about it with another person." 

"I wish I had taken more time to discuss the Chara's law with Peter while I lived here; it was a great opportunity lost. But this law, at least, is one I know about." 

"What about the sentences?" asked James. 

"Mercy if the act is done with provocation, branding if done without clear understanding, or death if done willfully and with clear understanding. In practice, it is hard for prisoners to prove provocation, so the case is generally decided by the circumstances of the attack. The murderer of an unarmed man, for example, is usually sentenced to death." 

"But he can be sentenced to mercy?" 

"If the judge believes there was severe provocation," replied Andrew. "The test for provocation in such a case is quite high." 

"You speak of the judge rather than the Chara, and of death rather than the high doom. But surely only the Chara has the right to try those who have been charged with one of the Great Three." 

"God of Mercy, Carle is becoming lax in his old age. Don't tell me that he has failed to impress upon you the only privilege of judgment that the Chara allowed the council to retain." 

James laughed. "Of course – I had forgotten that the council can try prisoners for the Great Three." 

"It can where the prisoner is under the council's immediate care: that is, if he is a lord, a council official, or – as you pointed out last month – a free-servant. There you have a rare instance of the Chara actually giving up power to the council rather than taking it." 

"Do you talk this way around the Chara?" asked James, sounding amused. 

"Not these days; it seems to irritate him too much. In the old days, Peter used to encourage me. He said that he got tired of everyone always showing him great respect – bowing to him and calling him Chara, even in private – and that he required me as an antidote. As Carle will tell you, outward shows of respect were never my strength. In Koretia we tend to allow our servants greater liberties." 

"I still don't understand about the free-servants being tried by the council," said James. "If that is the case, then why is it that your own judgment was handed down by—" 

"Lord James!" 

Andrew looked back toward me in the casual manner I remembered well. James bobbed up from where he had been sitting and looked at me uncertainly for a moment before remembering to bow. 

I said, "Good day to you, Ambassador; I beg your pardon for interrupting your conversation. Lord James, I would like a word with you." 

James gave Andrew a bemused look. "If you will excuse me, Ambassador." 

Andrew, his face as unreadable as ever, gave James a nod before sliding off the table. As I left, he was placing the thickest law volume back onto the bookcase. 

As James and I entered the Council Chamber, I paused, considering where to go. The council meeting had ended not long before, as evidenced by the fact that both James and I were still wearing our formal dress. James's tunic was a flaming red, which contrasted well with the brass-sheathed sword that was always at his side. I had selected my own tunic, woven of silver and gold thread, in order to stand out at the council table, but I was willing to wager that James would still be wearing his red tunic later this evening when the rest of us lords had changed into something less conspicuous. 

At the moment, the chamber was still filled with brightly-dressed lords, and I knew that the two dozen side rooms would be similarly filled with council officials rushing to finish their work for the day. In any case, all of these places were accessible to Andrew, and I did not wish to encourage the Ambassador to take a suitable revenge on me for my eavesdropping. 

"Have you been in the Labyrinth yet, Lord James?" I asked. 

James shook his head. "It has been locked since my arrival." 

"You will always find it locked; I have the only council keys, which I lend out when necessary. Perhaps you would be interested in seeing what the place looks like." 

"I hear that it is empty most of the time," James said as I extracted the keys from my belt-pouch. "I suppose that it is a suitable place for you to go when you wish to admonish any of your lords." 

I gave James a sharp look, and then decided that Peter's wishes concerning my relationship with James did not allow me to make the sort of reply I would like to have given. We walked down to the discussion room, where I had held my conversation with Ursula a month before. Today, some of the lords were meeting there with an official from the governor's palace in Arpesh; since the dominion governors are non-voting council lords, the dominions are placed under the immediate care of the council. This has caused numerous struggles between the council and the Chara over the years, as the Chara would like to have had more control over the dominion governments. My own opinion, from the time I had spent sorting out Koretia's dominion problems, was that the Chara had the fortunate end of the bargain. 

Only the Arpeshian palace official, perhaps convinced from our dress that we must be lords of some importance, took notice as James and I headed to the back of the room, where the door to the Labyrinth was flanked by two guards. I handed James the torch that had been hanging on the wall next to us before I turned my attention to the door. 

"Why three locks?" asked James as I struggled to turn the key in the first rusty lock. 

"Because, Lord James, it is harder for a spy to pick three locks than it is for him to pick one." The door opened with a squeaky protest on its ancient hinges, and James skipped lightly down the steps ahead of me. 

"You protect this area well," remarked James as I closed the door behind us and relocked it. 

"We need to; the documents in this part of the council quarters are too valuable to allow easy access to them. The Chara takes similar precautions with his own documents room. Only the court clerk has the keys to that room, and if the clerk gives the keys to anyone else, that person must bear a letter of command from the Chara in order to pass the two sets of guards in the passageway leading to the court documents room." 

"By all the laws, Lord Carle, it sounds like the sort of tale that a Daxion bard would tell." James tried one of the doors in the passageway that we were standing in. "Also locked. A fourth key?" 

"You begin to understand, Lord James. It is, conceivable, I suppose, that a spy could pick four different locks, but before he got through the first three, it is likely that he would be caught by the guards. The fourth lock is simply an extra precaution to allow for the possibility of the guards being bribed. Several of the most trusted council guards have access to this area, but only I have the fourth key." 

James held the torch higher and peered down the dark passage before us. Although the engineers who had redesigned the Labyrinth two decades ago had done wonders with their suction pumps and with vents that drew the humid air upwards, the stone walls still smelled dank with dampness. Along the walls were closed doors and occasional hooks on which a torch could be placed. Further ahead, two open doorways led to other passages. 

"Why is it called the Labyrinth?" asked James. 

"If you follow me, I will show you," I said. "I hope that you have a good memory." 

We came up to the point where the passage divided into three. I said, "Take your pleasure, Lord James," and James, a man of firm decisions in all matters, turned immediately into the right-hand passage. We had not gone far before the passage split again; this time we took the left-hand passage. We continued in this manner for some time, passing an occasional guard on patrol, until I said, "Now retrace our path." 

Several minutes later, James asked, "Has anyone ever died in here?" 

I gave a short laugh as I turned into the passage I wanted. "Eventually you would have found your way back to the entrance; the clue is to notice which doors have locks. This is part of the original palace, and most of this area is left empty now; not many of us would wish to live in this windowless honeycomb. Just a few of the rooms are used for council storage – such as this one." I stopped and opened the door beside us. "You will like this room, I think. Bring the torch, but be careful to keep it away from the room's contents. I will be brought hand-bound to the Court of Judgment if this place goes up in flames." 

James had an eager look in his eyes that dimmed as he entered the dark chamber and discovered that it contained nothing but a simple wooden table with a small iron box on it. I took the torch from James's hands and placed it on a hook on the wall, and then watched as James went over to stand by the table. 

"What is it?" he asked, looking down at the box. 

"If your education was good enough, you should be able to tell. But take care in opening it; its contents are fragile." 

His movements were deft, for he was evidently already acquainted with the metal containers that preserve important documents. Swiftly, James undid the latch, opened the top, and pulled down the sides of the container, so that the crumbling book within lay open to view. Then he tenderly opened the worn cover and stared down at one of the pages from the middle of the book. "Archaic Emorian," he said with mild interest. "I've never seen a copy that was done in the original language." 

"This is not a copy." 

James had been feeling the pages with his fingers. Now he snatched back his hand, as though he had touched fire. His breath quickened. He did not look my way; his sight was reserved for the aged volume before him. 

"One of the original law books?" he whispered. 

"It is the only volume to have survived, which is not surprising – seven hundred years is a long time. It is the volume on discipline for the council lords, understandably a matter that the Chara William was concerned to make clear after the war. The story goes that he scribed this volume with his own hand." 

James allowed his fingers to hover over the ink on the pages, though he did not touch the book again. After a moment he removed his hand. His hand was shaking. 

I decided after a while that it was unlikely that James was ever going to look up from the volume through his own volition, so I came over and carefully closed the law book, resealing it in its container. James looked up at me then. There was a hint of moisture on his eyelashes. 

I steered him over to the other side of the room; I always felt nervous being closer than a spear-length to that book. I said, "I bring all of my new lords here at some point in order that I may see their reaction to the book. It is a surprisingly easy test by which to discover how much depth of reverence a lord has toward the law. Your latest activities have given me special reason to wonder." 

James took a deep breath and jerked his hand through his hair, as though shoving aside the experience he had just undergone. "The Chara said that I might speak to the Ambassador about unofficial matters. We weren't talking about anything official." 

"No, I could see what you were talking about," I replied dryly. 

James looked embarrassed, but said firmly, "I didn't ask him about his trial either; he volunteered that information. I just wondered what the Ambassador had to say about the Great Three crimes. The Chara told me that Lord Andrew knows a good deal about the law." 

"I am glad to see the Ambassador showing an interest in the law these days; he demonstrated very little interest in it when he lived in Emor. I fail to see, though, why one of my council lords would require to be instructed in the Great Three, particularly by a foreign ambassador." 

"Well . . ." James gave me a quick glance that suggested he was not going to answer my question directly. "I have been hearing the most extraordinary stories about the Ambassador. I'm told that the Jackal consults with him before issuing his major proclamations, and that the Ambassador himself drew up the terms for the Koretian peace settlement." 

I made a conscious determination to reply in a neutral voice, feeling that this sort of effort ought to be easy after so many years. "The Ambassador offered various suggestions that were taken into account when the Chara and the Jackal composed the peace document. But you haven't fully answered my question." 

James bit his lip and looked down. "I ought to have come to you, I know. It's just that I was afraid you would get the wrong impression. You see, after the night that the Ambassador arrived, I decided that I ought to understand more clearly how I was bound by the law as a council lord. And I know that, except with permission of the Chara or the High Lord, council lords cannot be charged with crimes, other than the Great Three." 

"Lord James," I said slowly, "you have no idea how gratified I am to hear you say this. Half the charges that are placed in this palace occur because the prisoner is unaware he is committing a crime. I would be most happy to answer any questions you have about the laws that you may be judged by." 

Without a word, James seated himself on the dusty floor. Upon consideration, I decided that my dignity of office could afford momentary release, so I sat down beside him. This room, like the others used for storing documents, had been kept as dry as any underground chamber can be; I could hear the soft whistle of air overhead as the air vents drew smoke upwards. The torch's murmur was the only other sound. Even the guards could not be heard through the thick door. 

"Was the information that the Ambassador gave me correct?" asked James. 

"Quite correct," I said grudgingly, "although the Ambassador failed to mention that the council's judgment is bound over by the High Lord to one man – at the moment, it is Lord Neville. If you ever commit a crime, Lord Neville will be your judge, unless he or I choose to have you transferred into the care of the Chara, in which case the Chara will judge you." 

"Are such transfers common?" asked James. 

"In cases involving the Great Three, they are fairly common. It is likely, though, that Lord Neville would retain your case if you were charged with misuse of power. You were wrong, you see, in believing that council lords can only be charged with the Great Three." 

"I remember your mentioning that law on the night of the Ambassador's arrival, but I was unable to find it in the law books." 

"It is not, strictly speaking, a law, but instead falls into the category of council discipline. It is invoked on occasions when the lord uses his power in an unauthorized manner or to manipulate those under his care." 

"Can you give me an example?" 

"There are few I can think of. There have only been two cases of this grave crime occurring since I became a lord, and I don't remember the precise details." I mused for a while; then I gave up and grasped at the case I was most likely to remember, though I was careful to omit names. "There is one instance I know of where the discipline was contemplated but not carried out. It involved the council judge – not Lord Neville, but one of the judges in the past. This judge had been inclined to mistreat the prisoners under his care, in a few instances even while the prisoners were awaiting judgment. As a result, the High Lord at the time thought of charging this judge with misuse of his powers as a council lord." 

"But he didn't?" 

"The Chara spoke unofficially to the judge about the matter, and the man accepted the Chara's judgment and reformed his ways. It was just as well. The charge of misuse of power is a serious one, akin to being charged with one of the Great Three. Like the Great Three, it derives directly from the central passage in the law-structure that treats the council lords' dealings with each other. However, the crime is not penalized by death." 

"What is the penalty?" asked James. 

I looked closely at him. He seemed too eager to learn about this particular law. I said, my voice growing less gentle, "The penalty is that the lord in question is placed for one year under the custody of the High Lord. During that period, he is unable to carry out any duty without permission of the High Lord: he may not research any law, speak in any meeting, or vote in any instance without the High Lord approving what he does and says." 

James frowned. "That sounds like slavery." 

"It is meant as an equivalent to the sentence of enslavement. It is a severe penalty for a severe crime – so I hope that your sudden interest in this crime is not indication that you intend to commit it." 

James cocked his head to one side. Thanks to his northern blood, his hair was even fairer than Peter's; it had touches of white here and there where his ancestors had evidently intermarried with Arpeshians or Marcadians or even mainlanders. Under the torchlight, he looked like a small barbarian warrior. 

"What have I done that you are so strict with me, Lord Carle?" he asked. "In council the other day, I made a small suggestion about the Law of Succession, and you acted as though I had just stabbed a fellow lord with my blade." 

I contemplated for a while longer the young lord before me, thinking that it had taken me ten years to convince Peter of the lesson which James required. I doubted I would remain High Lord for that much longer. Still, I needed to try. "Lord James, perhaps we should start with your earlier question, about whether the Law of Succession should be changed to allow the Chara's more distant kin to succeed the throne. You did tell Lord Hubert to ask that question, did you not?" 

"Yes," said James, unabashed. "Lord Neville didn't really answer the question." 

"That was because Lord Neville hoped that all of the council lords present would think to consult the Case volumes before asking such questions. A proclamation of this sort was in fact issued in the time of the middle Charas, by the Chara Luke, who had no kin in the royal family. Would you like to know what happened?" 

James nodded, his eyes narrowing in the dim light. 

"The Chara and the council were unable to agree on the meaning of the proclamation. The division of powers, you know, says that the Chara's power in the matter of succession is to propose an heir from his family, while the council's power is to confirm or withhold confirmation of that heir. The Chara claimed that his new proclamation gave him the right to both select and confirm the heir. The council lords refused to accept the Chara's decision to strip them of the power of confirmation." 

"So how did the Chara and his council finally agree?" James's voice was more hushed. 

"They did not come to any agreement. As you know, the division of powers generally makes clear what are the Chara's rights and what are the council's rights – thus, all ambiguous laws can be referred back to that division. Having departed from the division, though, the Chara was unable to convince the council of his rights in the matter. The situation became so serious that war nearly resulted." 

James was silent, then asked, "How was the matter settled?" 

"The Chara reversed the proclamation, divorced his wife, and begat an heir through his second wife. You can see, however, why the Chara issues such proclamations so rarely. They can too easily destroy the delicate balance of powers between the Chara and his council. Now do you understand why I reacted sternly to your suggestion that the council involve itself in changing the division of powers?" 

James had one admirable quality; he did not rush his replies. Several minutes passed before he said, "Yes. It is dangerous to do so where the powers are already split between the Chara and the council. But—" 

"But?" There was an edge to my voice. I could see that I was dealing with an obstinate student. 

"But this case in Koretia is different." He paused a moment to see whether I would question him about this change of topic, but it had not taken much intelligence on my part to see where his thoughts were headed. James continued, "The Jackal has simply bound over part of his power in judgment to the council in order to allow the law-structure to be fulfilled. Why is the Chara so afraid of giving up some of his rights as High Judge? As you said, he is the council's master, but the best masters are willing to listen to their faithful servants when they fall into error. Is the Chara such a cruel master that he will not even allow himself to be rebuked by the council in extreme cases?" 

There was a simple reply I could make to this, but I had already used up ten years' worth of lessons in one sitting, so I said, "If you think about it long enough, you may be able to figure out the answer for yourself. In the meantime, let me make clear to you that the Chara does not wish to give the council the right to tamper with the division of powers – so you are not to suggest such an idea at future meetings." 

James did not say that he would obey my instructions – which was wise, as I could read in his eyes that he would not do so. I have always preferred an inwardly rebellious servant over a deceitful one. In this instance, I decided that James's own common sense would lead him to understand the reasons behind the Chara's wishes, so I said, "Are you ready to go back?" 

James nodded and took up the torch, but he was so preoccupied that he did not even take one last look at the box containing the book. Not until we were close to the Labyrinth entrance did he rouse himself, and then he stayed carefully away from the subject we had been discussing, remarking, "I thought that you kept all of these doors locked." 

"All the ones that have locks, yes." 

"Then why is that door ajar?" 

I halted with a suddenness that caused James to slam against me. Quick-witted as always, he lowered his voice and asked, "What room is that?" 

"It is a stairway, leading up to a northern tower." 

"Are documents stored up there?" He reduced his voice to a whisper. 

"No, there are other reasons for keeping the door locked. Lord James . . ." 

"Yes, High Lord?" It was reassuring to see James revert to strict formality at this moment of crisis. 

"That impressive-looking sword of yours – can you actually use it?" 

James grinned as he unsheathed his blade. "We're too far away from the Chara's soldiers to depend on their help at Lone Bay Beach. We capture our own prisoners there." 

"I am delighted to hear it." I pulled out my own blade, and the old thrill it gave me made me wonder whether I had chosen the right profession. "I hope that I can also depend on you to obey orders." 

"I am your Second Blade, High Lord," said James, referring to an army official's second-in-command. "Lead our attack." 

We left the torch on a hook in the corridor below and edged our way up the long, dark, curling stairway – an unnerving experience, since the stairway had various niches in which an armed man could easily lurk. I was pleased to see that James was evidently well trained in hunting down men. He made hardly more noise than I did. I was sure that, whenever we found our spy, we would see him before he saw us. 

It was not until we reached the dimly lit top floor of the tower that we sighted him. We had a split second in which to raise our swords and brace ourselves. Then he turned his head toward us and said calmly, "Are you having me arrested again, Lord Carle? The court summoners may begin to tire of your visits on my behalf." 

It was Andrew. 

o—o—o

He was sitting, with grat repose, in the tower window. The windowframe was low-set and had a broad base that was long enough to seat two or more men. His dagger was absent from his right side, but I could not see what was at his left side. Both his hands were in view. I looked automatically toward his eyes, after years of being able to read his thoughts there. Those eyes were in no way guarded. In fact, they seemed to hold a hint of amusement in them. 

The look made me wary of drawing quick conclusions. In any case, one does not immediately accuse an ambassador of crimes. I let my sword-hand fall, but I kept the sword at my side as I said, "My apologies, Lord Andrew. We were alarmed because the door to this area is usually kept locked." 

Andrew reached to his hidden left side. James, who had not yet lowered his sword, braced his feet. But all that Andrew held up was a chain of keys. 

I saw the flash of the seal attached to the chain and said abruptly to James, "Put up." Sheathing my own sword, I walked over to stand by Andrew. "You might mention to the Chara that I would appreciate prior notice before he lends out his keys to council rooms. One of the palace guards might have stumbled upon you and not waited to ask questions." 

"Oh, I know at what times the guards patrol here." Although he did not smile, Andrew sounded cheerful, as well he might, considering the foolish entrance James and I had made. "The Chara and I used to come here when we were boys and wanted to talk alone without anyone walking in on us unexpectedly. Also, this is the only Koretian-style windowseat in the palace. It affords a wonderful view." 

There was definitely amusement in his eyes now; he had known my suspicions. Lulled by Andrew's informality, James came over to look out the window. Andrew pulled his legs back so that James could sit down. 

It was indeed a wonderful view. From here, one could see the entire sweep of the army headquarters which lay on the north side of the palace. Army officials' tents, stables, armories, battle practice grounds . . . The palace contained other places, of course, where one could look down on the army, but here alone an observer could see the mock battles taking place and guess what relation they had to upcoming battles. Here, too, one could see the quarters of the officers. The tent covers hid the most secret activity, but it was easy to sight the men going to and fro and to guess, over time, who was doing what. 

"I think that the subcommander is having an affair with a city woman," said Andrew. "At least, she dips in and out of his tent as though she has proprietary claims there. And the captains of the right and left field wings aren't speaking to each other. If one of them goes into a tent and finds the other there, he leaves immediately." 

"You seem to know a good deal about the Emorian army," I said dryly. 

"Oh, many of the officials served in the Koretian dominion army until the transition of power was complete; that took a couple of years after Koretia received its independence. And some still pay visits to Koretia on the Chara's behalf. I spend time in the Jackal's army headquarters now and then. The Jackal's subcommander is a friend of mine, and I suppose I'm simply fulfilling a childhood dream by mingling with great warriors. I thought of becoming a soldier when I was young." 

"What sort of business do you do?" As he spoke, James sat in a relaxed, cross-legged pose. He was now looking at Andrew rather than the view. "Do you work in the palace?" 

"Only on rare occasions." A note of humor crept into Andrew's voice. "The last time I worked there, it was as a stablehand. I shovelled manure for a month." 

"Well, of all the Great Three . . . Is that the sort of work the Jackal usually gives his lords?" 

Andrew emitted a short laugh. It was the first time I had ever heard him laugh, and it was a laugh such as a corpse might have emitted, for his lips did not turn up into a smile. "That was my penalty for losing a wager with the Jackal. I bet him that I could remember more Koretian court cases than he could in which spies were placed on trial for their lives. I ought to have known better." 

"The Chara said that you are learned in the law." 

Andrew was no longer looking my way. I stepped back into the shadows, though I had no illusions that the Ambassador had forgotten my presence. He said, "I've learned Emorian law. 'Being as an ambassador is immune to the law, the only penalty for his crimes shall be expulsion from the land—' and so on. I can't recite the laws from heart the way the Chara can, but I know what most of them are. Koretian laws, though, are different. Instead of beginning with a general description of what is legal, Koretian law begins with particular court cases. Back when the Jackal was a rebel, he knew most of what was going on in the land, so he knows more court cases, and therefore more laws, than anyone else in Koretia. If you ever want to know about Koretian law, the Jackal is the man you should ask." 

"Then it really was unwise of you to place a bet with him." 

"Oh, but I would have won if he hadn't tricked me." 

"Come now, Lord Andrew," I said from my dark location. "I would have thought that your own experience in such matters would have prevented you from falling into traps." 

Andrew glanced my way but said nothing. James asked, "How did he trick you?" 

"He won by citing a minor court case that had occurred during a time when I was visiting the capital of Daxis. I was especially furious because the work I did there was partly for the Jackal." 

"You were an ambassador there?" 

"I was a trader." Andrew leaned back, curling his arms in a loose fashion around his knees. "You asked about my work. Trading is one of the things I do. The Jackal asked me to help him arrange a trade in Daxis, and it should only have taken a few days, but the deal fell through. The next thing I knew, I was in one of those nightmare situations that traders encounter every now and then. I simply couldn't go home until I worked everything out. I remember thinking, 'Well, this is it. This is where I'm going to live and die because I'll never sort out this mess.' I was very relieved to get home from Daxis, and was very angry that the Jackal cited a court case that I would have known about if I hadn't been handling his cursed trade." 

Over the years I had often wondered how Andrew behaved when he was alone with Peter. Only with Peter, I sensed, did he ever drop his mask of expressionless formality. Now, for the first time, I was witnessing his charming vulnerability, and it made me uneasy. I knew that he would not have spoken in such a fashion if he and I had been alone together, but I would not have expected him to lay himself open like this when I was anywhere within hearing. If he could drop his old defenses while I was around, then he must have developed some new and very effective hidden defenses. 

But those defenses had a few cracks, as I discovered when James spoke next. "I've heard about Koretian traders. It sounds like an exciting life, travelling from place to place, making deals. I suppose it's a good trade to pass on from father to son – for any man who has sons." 

Andrew's hand, which had been lightly tinkling the key chain, checked. For a moment he scrutinized James with cold eyes. Then his expression relaxed once more. 

I doubt that most people would have noticed that moment of judgment. But James asked uneasily, "Did I say something wrong?" 

"Not at all," replied Andrew calmly. "For a moment there, I thought that Lord Carle had been teaching you the finer points of council combat, but it was my imagination. Speaking of the council, how is life in the chamber these days?" 

I was as eager as Andrew to change the subject, and I started to reply, but James cut me off. His eyes were still fixed on Andrew. "Lord Andrew, if I have offended you in some way, I would like to know how." 

"It is not worth worrying about. You need not concern yourself." 

He spoke gently, and I supposed he may have been startled to see James suddenly stiffen and say, with restrained outrage, "Ambassador, I spend my days hearing that. I have accepted the fact that, as a junior council lord, my role is to remain ignorant of all that happens in this land. But I draw the line at being kept in ignorance outside the Council Chamber. Unless this matter involves some aspect of your work that I ought not to be told about, I would appreciate knowing what I have done. Knowledge is power, as Lord Carle has often said." 

In the long silence that followed, Andrew did not look my way, but simply sat looking at James, scrutinizing him once more. Then he said quietly, "I do not give either knowledge or power to many people, and you are not a man I know well yet. However, I too know what it is like to be under the care of Lord Carle and without power. You have my permission to seek your answer from Lord Carle. He is always eager to speak on this subject. Now, if you will excuse me . . ." He rose, and his cold eyes passed by me as though the shadows had rendered me invisible. 

"Well?" 

I ignored James's tone. I was listening with half an ear as Andrew went lightly down the steps and opened and closed the door into the Labyrinth. Then I said, "Well, you have just received a fine lesson as to why it is always dangerous to ask questions about a man's private life, unless you know the man well. Lord Andrew was not happy to have you raise the subject of sons because he himself is a eunuch." 

James was still sitting on the windowseat. I had moved to be able to see his face, and so I watched him frown with puzzlement. Finally he said, "I had not heard this." 

"I doubt that many people in the palace remember, such has been the Ambassador's amazing rise to power. And the Ambassador himself has always taken great care that no one should guess from his behavior." 

"I don't think I could have guessed, no matter how he behaved; I know very little on the subject. Is this a condition he was born with?" 

We were entering now onto the ground I had hoped to avoid. Twenty-nine years as a council lord, though, had taught me ways to deflect conversations. I said, with great condescension, "It is a delicate subject, Lord James. I think perhaps that I should wait until you are a little older before I explain." 

I had managed to draw James in with my first words. He went white in the face, and I waited. If I waited long enough, I knew that I would receive the additional benefit of having him lose his temper and tell me something candid. 

It took him a while to formulate what he was going to say; he had a natural talent for never approaching any subject head on. Then he said, his voice strained, "Lord Carle, I'm sure that you, like all of the other palace residents, assume that I have been bothering the Chara with my company because I am trying to win power for myself. You could not be more wrong. The Chara himself has been the one commanding my presence, and our conversations have been purely informal." 

"You believe that the Chara wishes to be friends with you?" I said with scornful politeness. 

"No, Lord Carle, I am not that innocent. I believe that he sees me as a danger. He knows, even if you do not, that I will someday hold a position of great power in the council. He knows that I will be one of the men he will be forced to fight if the council clashes with the Chara. Because of this, I had expected the Chara to bid me to his quarters from the day I arrived at the palace. The only surprise I have received is that the Chara has not attempted to win me into his influence. I think that he simply wishes us to know each other better, so that our battles, when they come, will be civilized battles, done for the benefit of Emor, rather than so that each of us can gain power. I don't suppose you can understand this." 

I said calmly, "I have known the Chara since long before you were born, Lord James. I know quite well what sort of man he is, and what motives he has for his actions. I have never known him to do anything except for the sake of his land and his people." 

The muscles in James's neck twitched; he was disconcerted by my response. However, he continued with his set speech: "The Chara is a wiser man than you, Lord Carle. He knew from the start that I was a danger, while you have treated me as a harmless young boy, incapable of grasping the hard realities of council life. But I have seen well enough how it is that power is gained in the council. I give you fair warning that I am prepared to use the same methods myself, whether against you or any other lord." 

I had kept my promise to Peter to treat James gently, but now I could not prevent a cold smile from forming. I saw James swallow twice, rapidly, but he kept his eyes on me as I said softly, "I would be naive indeed, Lord James, if I had not known that I was bringing a danger back with me from Lone Bay Beach. Any junior council lord is a danger to his seniors, and you especially, because of your ambition. You need not mince words with me: I know that you want the High Lordship. Therefore, since you are learning so rapidly the methods of backstabbing that lords use, let me recommend to you a method I myself have used. When I was a junior lord, I charged a senior lord with a crime. Once he had been dismissed from the council, I took his place in the seniority. If you ever want to depose me as High Lord, I suggest that you use this procedure." 

James's rapid breath was the only sound in the room. After a while he said flatly, "I do not engage in backstabbing, Lord Carle. My fighting occurs face to face. I am not the sort of man to bear false witness in a court, simply in order to bring power to myself." 

"I am relieved to hear it; your earlier words had me worried that I had misjudged your character. I did not say that I bore false witness, Lord James. The lord in question had been selling information to one of our enemies, and I went to the court summoners with my suspicions. I have no more desire than the Chara to gain power at the expense of our land, and if you ever suggest so again, I will have you tried on the charge of insulting a council lord. Is that clear?" 

I waited to see whether his reaction would be to cringe or to continue his attack. But he simply blinked several times in a row before replying calmly, "Quite clear, Lord Carle. I am sorry about the misunderstanding. Now please explain to me how it is that the Ambassador came to be a eunuch." 

James was right; he was dangerous. I wondered how long it would be before he found a way to take my council chair. I said in a voice less smooth and more bellicose, "I had him gelded when I first bought him." 

James's breath whistled in. "No wonder he tried to kill you. Should I fear a similar act from you? Will you strip me of my power because I am a threat to you?" 

"Only if you are also a threat to Emor – and if you do not learn to behave in a fashion becoming to a council lord, I will consider you a threat. Your methods of sudden and decisive action worked well enough in the town court, and would even work in the Chara's court, but they are inappropriate to the Council Chamber. You have been kind enough to warn me of your danger to me, so I will warn you: I will not have the time-honored customs of the Great Council destroyed simply in order to satisfy the ambitions of a junior lord." 

James smiled then, and it was not the cold smile I had given him, but one of satisfaction, like that of a soldier who enjoys his work. "Thank the laws of Emor that I know one council lord who will not stab me in the back. It is a relief to meet someone I can fight with openly. I came to the palace expecting to make many enemies, Lord Carle. I am pleased to know that I have one whom I can respect." 

I was glad that he, at least, was satisfied. It gave me no comfort to know that, in addition to my ongoing fights with the council, the Ambassador, and even the Chara, I would have one more armed soldier to face. Perhaps I was growing old. Warfare quickens the blood of the young, but it makes men near death grow weary. 

James said something in farewell, and left the tower. I stood a while more, staring down at the army grounds, with its hasty activity telling a tale that I could easily read: war was coming with Koretia. At one time in my life, I would have rejoiced at the idea of wiping out that barbarian land. Now, while I had no merciful feelings toward the place where Peter had suffered so, I was reluctant to see blood shed once more. Perhaps it was not age that wearied me, but simply the numbness of too many wounds over the years. 

I turned, and found Andrew watching me. 

His face had hardened back to its usual mask of cold dispassion. I said, not hiding my scorn, "Did you even bother to leave?" 

"No." 

"Spying runs red in your blood, it seems. What did you hope to gain by listening to James and me?" 

He stepped forward to where the light poured through the window. "I was curious to know your protégé's character. He guards himself well when he is around me, and I could not tell from our encounters whether you had found someone to whom you could pass on your inheritance." 

"My inheritance?" 

"Your views on the law. Are you walking back to your quarters? I would appreciate your assistance in finding my way back to the southern corridor. I might go astray." 

I ignored his irony and followed him out of the tower. Then I was silent for a while, watching him glide through the passages with a sure and silent step. He had an uncanny ability to anticipate when we were about to meet a guard; once I saw him instinctively melt back into a doorway before he caught himself. Whatever he might have wanted James to think, Andrew had been doing more than just trading for the past ten years. 

He waited until we were back in the daylight of the corridor leading to the Map Room before he said, "But I fancy that Lord James is not to be your heir." 

"He may yet take the High Lordship from me." I had said that already to James; I was revealing nothing new to Andrew. 

"I mean your heir in the matter of discipline and order. I suspect that you have already selected your heir; I have been able to make no headway with the Chara in convincing him that the Koretian council should have the right to overturn the Jackal's decisions." 

This was the first good news I had received all day, but I ignored the warmth that Andrew's words brought. "You may succeed in convincing him yet. The Chara has always valued your opinion." 

"Yes, but it won't be easy this time. He appears to feel that your opinion in this matter is the only one that counts. It may be that the only way in which I can prevent war is by destroying his friendship with you. I thought you should know." 

My smile was dark, my voice darker. "Ambassador, you have a refreshing directness. But the time for such warnings was when you first met the Chara. I know your plans, and I know your methods. They are not the methods that Lord James uses; they are the methods of the Jackal, who is skilled in treachery and deception. I am always on the alert for a knife in my back when you are in this land." 

Andrew shook his head, not looking my way. "Your back is safe, Lord Carle. If I were to destroy the Chara's friendship with you, I would bring greater disaster than I could prevent. I mention my dilemma only in the hope that you will assent to give further consideration as to whether you are correct in this matter. I believe that you would be benefitting the Chara if you did." 

We had reached the Chara's door. I stopped and looked at Andrew, my smile broadening. "That is precisely the sort of method I would expect you to use in your stabbing, Lord Andrew. You used soft words such as this with the Chara once before, and it nearly cost him his life. I believe the words of destruction you spoke before. It has taken me this many years to develop even a thin defense against your machinations, and I am not prepared to lower my guard upon your first sweet words of goodwill. I am sorry that I cannot speak longer with you, Ambassador, but the Chara asked me to see him this afternoon." 

"That is peculiar. He asked me as well, and said that I should come alone. Shall we enter his quarters and see what the misunderstanding is?" 

I gazed into his heavily-fortressed eyes and made my retreat. "I will come by later," I said abruptly and turned toward my living quarters. 

I waited until I heard the Chara's door shut before I stopped and turned to look at the doorway. The guards had crossed their spears in front of the door. None could enter now, on penalty of the high doom.


	7. Description | 3

**CHAPTER THREE**   
**966 a.g.l.**   


> _The Description, with its rolling rhythm and its soaring passages, can help to convey the beauty of the law. Most men, upon sighting this beauty, honor the law with humility. Humility, though, must often be hard-won through painful experience and retained by self-discipline. The most pitiful sort of criminal is one who, having glimpsed and worshipped the law, then strays from his duty by allowing himself to become obsessed with mundane matters._

  
o—o—o

Twenty years before, I had also passed before the Chara's doorway and found the spears crossed before it. 

I would have been surprised if they were not. I hesitated in my tracks only in order to cast an eye on the Chara's guards. There was only one set of guards here now; the pair who had accompanied the Chara everywhere he went had been dismissed. I had not been happy about this change, but at least the remaining guards would be able to concentrate their attention on their most important task: deciding who to admit to the Chara's presence when he was spending his time in privacy. 

I paused in the corridor only for only a few seconds, but in that amount of time, the guards, without moving their gaze from straight ahead, pulled up the spears and set them down straight with a clank. The guards moved as though they were mirror images of each other; they had been well trained. 

But not well trained enough, it seemed. Sighing over the fact that once again I must be forced to discipline another man's servants, I came forward and said softly, "I believe that your master is not receiving visitors at this hour." 

"No, Lord Carle. Only you." 

The guard to the right spoke in a quiet voice, so that none of the many men walking down the corridor toward the Court of Judgment could hear him. Yes, they had been well trained. 

Still I hesitated. "You are sure of this?" 

"His direct orders, Lord Carle. You were to be admitted if you came by." 

I kept my surprise to myself and knocked at the door. 

A voice said something muffled, and I opened the door a crack. He was standing in the middle of the sitting chamber, looking at a pile of clothes. He smiled at me and said, "You needn't knock. I knew that it would be you. I was hoping that you would stop by and help me with this. The souls of the dead Charas know that I should have this memorized by now, but I've forgotten how everything goes. Do you have time?" 

I stepped in, shutting the door behind me. "Certainly, Chara." 

His smile turned to a grin. "Don't call me that yet; you'll break custom. I'm still Lord Peter until I give my oath – that is, assuming I remember my oath. I have so much material floating in my head that I'll probably give your oath by mistake. Where do I begin here?" 

"The tunic would be a start." The words were hardly out of my mouth before Peter began pulling his everyday brown tunic over his head. He emitted a yelp as the emblem brooch, still attached, jabbed into his forehead. Once the tunic was off, he carefully removed the brooch and laid it on the table next to him. 

I came forward to help him as he began to struggle into his formal silver tunic. "Where is your free-servant?" I asked. 

"I rid myself of him. Oh, I know that I don't have the power to do that until two hours from now, but I couldn't stand another moment of it. Since Drogo had served my father, I thought he could help me with matters like this. But he kept saying, 'Yes, Lord Peter,' even when I knew I was making mistakes. I need a servant who can scold me when I do something wrong." 

"Respectfully, I'm sure you mean." 

"Oh, yes, respectfully – he must remember that I'm the Chara. But I'm also still a boy, and I need help in what I do." 

"You are now a man." I had fastened the tunic with the sword-belt. Now I clipped on the sheath of the Sword of Vengeance, glittering in the evening candlelight. As part of the tutoring I had undertaken, I had read Peter some of the gorier descriptions of how the earlier Charas had used the sword to execute the enemies of the Emorian people. Peter had turned white during my readings, and then, in a low voice, had asked me to read him more. Neither action had surprised me. Like his father, Peter had a sensitive nature; like his father, he would not allow his natural gentleness to interfere with his duties as the Chara. 

I pulled the sword to tilt from his belt at the proper angle. "You will need to have Drogo train your new free-servant to do this. Have you decided who you want?" 

Peter hesitated before saying, "I've had the court clerk write up Andrew's manumission paper." 

I went behind Peter to pick up his cloak. Peter's hesitation, I was sure, did not come from any lack of desire to mention my former slave to me. In Andrew's presence, certainly, Peter always acted formally toward both of us, as though he had no special relationship either with me or with his slave-servant. But I was certain this was for Andrew's sake rather than mine. In private with me, Peter did not hesitate to reveal his admiration for his servant. He seemed to take it for granted, despite past evidence to the contrary, that I admired Andrew as much as he did. 

I took care not to disillusion him. Peter had inherited his father's talent for reading people's inner thoughts, but he had not yet grown to an age where it had occurred to him to probe his father's friend. I was safely behind him, placing the cloak on his shoulders, so I did not bother to hide my expression. I kept my voice neutral, though, as I said, "I am not surprised. Your father told me that you had asked him to free Andrew before this." 

"He refused to do so, because of his custom of keeping palace slaves in permanent servitude. Well, I am breaking that custom. Oh, I know that Andrew will head straight back to Koretia, but I don't imagine that he'll be using the information to plot my assassination any time soon." He gave a small laugh at his joke. 

I reached round to close the clasp on the cloak. Rather than move to where Peter could see me, I picked up a brush and began passing it through Peter's golden hair. Answering Peter's unspoken question rather than his words, I said, "Andrew may want to stay on as your free-servant. He seems devoted to you." 

"I'm devoted to him," Peter said candidly. "But I'm not sure whether the feeling is mutual. He tells me what he thinks in a forthright manner whenever I ask – so much better than Drogo – but of course I've never dared ask what he thinks of me. I know you think that I'm foolish in the way I treat my servants, but I do know better than to ask for their private thoughts when they have no choice but to obey me. That's one of the things you taught me that has helped me." 

I did not reply. After a moment, Peter let his hand drift down to the rose-gold brooch on the table. "I wish I could wear this." 

I watched as his hand traced the symbols of the royal emblem: the balance measuring on one side a sword, on the other side a bird wounded in the heart. "It is not part of the ceremonial dress, of course. But I suppose that it would have been appropriate if the early Charas had chosen to wear some symbol of their office." 

"That isn't why I want to wear it. I want to wear it because you gave it to me." 

I was silent. I had now brushed Peter's hair ten times over, but he appeared not to notice this. He continued, "Do you remember the night you gave that to me? When I sneaked off to speak with you for the first time? It meant a great deal to me, that you would give me a family heirloom. I felt as though you were giving proof to me that you considered me worthy of the title of Chara." 

I tried to speak then, but Peter added with a laugh, "Of course, I spoiled it all by going and talking to Andrew afterwards, and causing that terrible scene when you saw us. It all worked out in the end, but I can still remember your face when you walked up, and there I was, wearing the emblem and chatting with a common slave. I thought you would never forgive me." 

"There was nothing to forgive." I put the brush down but stayed where I was. "You were the Chara To Be. You knew my views on discipline, and you had chosen your own methods of dealing with palace servants. I can only advise you, not command you." 

"Command." Peter spoke the word under his breath, as though expressing some darkly hidden thought, and I witnessed a light shudder go through his body. No, despite his outward acceptance of his duties, Peter was not going to find it easy to take on the role of the Chara. 

I did not want to make it easy for him. His duties required harsh self-control, and this in turn required severe discipline of training. I said, in a straightforward manner, "There remains the pendant." 

I do not think his mind had yet travelled that far. He said absent-mindedly, "It's on the desk over there." 

I waited. He looked back at me, and something in my eyes caused him to smile. "You see how bad my memory has become. I ought to have remembered this at least." 

"I should think so, considering that, on the very night of which we have been speaking, your father gave you an eloquent lecture on the penalty for touching the Pendant of Judgment." 

"He didn't simply lecture me: he threatened me with death if I ever touched the pendant again. It terrified me." He walked over to the table and looked down at the gold-chained pendant lying there. For a second I held my breath; all would be determined now by what he did. But it took no more time than that for him to place the chain around his neck and accept the burdens that his father had left him. 

He continued to stare down at the table where the pendant had been, though. Some students whom I have tutored over the years have asked me why the Chara To Be arrives at the enthronement ceremony wearing the Pendant of Judgment. Surely, those students have said, the action by which the heir accepts the Chara's office should take place in public. 

Peter had never asked me such a question. As Chara To Be, he knew that the public ceremony could not take place until the private consent had been given. It was for this reason that the Chara To Be was left in isolation during his final hours before the enthronement. I was probably the only man in the history of Emor to have witnessed this secret and sacred rite. 

I wondered whether Peter would share with me the agonies he had undergone in deciding whether to refuse the throne. When he spoke again, however, it was in continuation of what he had said before. 

"I never told you, but that was why I came to see you later that night – because you stood up for me when my father threatened to place me under the high doom. I knew how important you considered matters of discipline, and I had thought that you would be glad he'd spoken to me so severely. And yet you came to my defense. I will never forget that." 

I could not think of anything to reply. Perhaps it would have been better if I had, for in the next moment, Peter said, "That was a magical night: speaking alone to you for the first time, and then speaking to Andrew after that." 

I expected him to say more, and I also expected him to stay where he was, with his head bowed. Thus, when he turned to look at me suddenly, it took me a second to compose my features. 

Well, he was his father's son. I knew that in that second he had seen through to my carefully hidden feelings about Andrew. For a wild moment I thought: Now he will have to choose between us. Then I realized how absurd it was for me to think of myself as being in competition with a slave. 

Something flickered in Peter's expression, but his training held, and he simply asked, "How do I look?" 

I let my eye linger on the young man of sixteen years, wearing his silver tunic, black cloak, silver and gold sword, and gold and ruby pendant. "Like a Chara," I replied. 

"Truly?" He was pleased, and trying not to show it. 

"Truly," I replied with firmness. "You do not yet have the face to match, but that will come in its own time. I was living in the palace when your father was enthroned; I remember the transformation." 

"The idea scares me," Peter said in a rush of honesty. 

"It ought to. No man should take on the role you are taking without being aware of its potency. But you have the strength to bear that power, Lord Peter. I am sure of that." 

He gave a sober-eyed smile then, a smile that had begun to suggest itself on his face during the past few weeks as he prepared to take on the duties of his manhood. "Thank you, Lord Carle. It helps to have your trust in me." 

"Lord Peter, you would bestow honor upon me if you were to address me by my name alone, as your father did." 

"Gladly, if you will call me Peter." 

I felt warmth pervade me at his quick affirmation to the request I had been rehearsing in my thoughts for weeks. Still, I hesitated before this delicate threshold. Peter had reconciled himself to being the Chara, but was he aware yet of what that would mean to his friendships? "I will of course call you whatever you wish, but there is a reason why I chose never to call your father by his name. He was my friend, and our friendship meant much to me, but he was my master first. Calling him Chara kept that fact close to my thoughts." 

Peter nodded, but an expression of uneasiness passed over his face. I would have spoken further on the matter, but at that moment the trumpets sounded, their long, throaty bellow drifting in through the window. 

Peter swivelled his head hastily toward the door. "Has it started already?" 

He looked so guilty that I permitted myself a laugh. "Not yet. It is only the first trumpet call, summoning the lesser free-men. You have considerable time left. But I ought to be leaving, to allow you the customary time alone before your enthronement." 

"Oh, curse that foolish custom. Please don't go yet, Carle. I need your company; you can see what a state I'm in when I can't even remember which trumpet calls whom. Lord Dean will probably die from shame when he learns how much of the ceremony I've forgotten." 

"As long as you remember the law, that is all that matters. At a minimum, you should at least remember the Great Three." 

I had said this as a joke, but I caught sight of Peter's look of panic and said with a sigh, "May all the law books of Emor fall upon me. Please do not tell me that you have forgotten the Great Three." 

"I'm sorry," said Peter in a small voice. "I remember the first two, of course, but the third one always eludes me." 

He looked very young suddenly. I suspected that there was more than a little disingenuousness in his statement, for he had undoubtedly learned passages from the Great Three while he was still sucking milk at his nurse's breast. But if he felt the need to discuss the law at moments of greatest tension . . . Well, that was an instinct I too had acquired in my nursery years. I said, more gently, "You have had much on your mind recently. But for your father's sake I am not going to let you take your oath unless you know the base of your judgments. How much do you remember?" 

Peter's expression changed. He had not yet learned to be the Chara, but he had long known how to change from his informal lightness to the formality required of the Chara's son. "The Great Three are the three laws describing crimes against the Chara which may be punished by the high doom," he said. "Every judge in this land has the right to punish certain crimes by death, but only the High Judge, the Chara, may place men under the high doom of death by the sword or by torture." 

"And how does the Chara determine which high doom to place condemned prisoners under?" I asked. 

A twitch of Peter's right hand told me I had touched upon one of his deepest burdens. He replied calmly, though, "A Free-man's Death is given to most prisoners who are placed under the high doom. This consists of beheading by the Chara's executioner. A Slave's Death is given to slaves, as well as to free-men who have committed certain acts of high treason. The Chara and his council may also agree to condemn any other treacherous free-man to death by torture." 

He did not go on to describe a Slave's Death, but I could not blame him for that. With half an ear I could hear chatter from the hallway as free-men continued to walk toward the court. Through the window drifted the sound of singing: it came from the slaves, who were naturally barred from the ceremony and were therefore conducting their own celebration during the time when most of the palace would be deserted, though well guarded. On this night, at least, Andrew would not be a part of Peter's life. It was to me that Peter would turn for advice on the court and the law. 

"The first and most serious of the three laws describes disobedience to the Chara," Peter continued. "This is called the Law of Grave Iniquity, because if the people defy the Chara, the laws will be lost. For this reason, willful disobedience to the Chara's command is punished by death. The second of the three is the Law of Bloodshed: it covers murder or attempted murder when at least one of the parties involved is under the immediate care of the Chara, or when the crime takes place in the Chara's palace. This too is punished by death when the murder is done willfully and with clear understanding. The third law— That is the one I forget." 

I said, "It is not surprising, since no one has been charged with the crime since the Chara Rowland's day." 

I could see him place the name immediately. The most hideous task I had forced Peter to undergo as a student was the memorization of his family's genealogy. I had quizzed Peter using a book; even I did not have memorized the names, dates, and major court cases and wars of every Chara for the past thousand years. The memorization had taken Peter all of the previous winter, and when it became clear from Nicholas's illness that his son would have to assume his new duties soon, I had unsparingly kept Peter studying each day to the early hours of the morning. It had been a nightmarish time for us both, but the natural consequence of this instruction was that the long history of Emor was like a family story to Peter. He could just as easily recall, for example, the Battle of Mountain Heights in the time of the twenty-fourth Chara as he could remember anecdotes about his grandfather. 

I continued, "I hope by the structure of the law that you will never have to make use of the third one, for it is called the Law of Vengeance. All Emorian laws allow vengeance, of course, and the first two of the Great Three were created to allow vengeance for the Chara. But the third law is different. The Chara is the Judge of the People, the embodiment of the law, and so he is regarded by the law as being above most of the privileges of private life. You may not leave the palace except in wartime; you may not marry unless the court officials allow it; you may not even pass on the throne to your own son unless the council approves him as heir. Custom also requires that you give up the right to vengeance on private matters unrelated to your office. But the Law of Vengeance acknowledges that you are not only the Chara; you are also a man." 

I had my eye on Peter. He was very still, more still even than he had been as my dutiful pupil, when he had meekly endured the punishments I heaped upon him for his failures, although he was a boy of high spirits and also, I knew, of tremendous anger when roused. He had allowed himself to be rebuked, chastised, and even beaten, all for the sake of his duty, but I supposed he had endured it only because he had thought that this discipline would end when his school days ended. 

So it had, but it had promptly been replaced by a self-discipline just as severe, and I knew that he was now ready, as he had not been before, to fully grasp in what small area he might give up that self-discipline. 

I said, "The Law of Vengeance states that if the Chara is harmed in some private way which does not directly interfere with his duties, but which gravely harms his manhood, he may ask the court summoners to issue this charge. The highest penalty for such a crime is the high doom, in recognition of the fact that the Chara cannot exist to proclaim the law if there is not first a private man who is willing to take on the burdens of being the Chara." 

In the silence that followed, I heard the trumpets sound a second time, calling the noblemen to the Court of Judgment. I did not move, however; I was watching Peter's face, which had grown grave. He said finally, "Thank you for reminding me of this law, Carle. I indeed hope that I will not make use of it, but it is good for me to remember that I must protect the man if I am to be the Chara." 

"I wish with all mercy that I had thought to remind your father of this. If I had, he might be here today." 

Peter gave a melancholy smile. "Well, Carle, I can make no promise that I will not overtax my body, as my father did his, but I doubt that I will allow such work to kill me. I can always depend on you to drag me back from death, for duty's sake, if nothing else. So I place my life in your hands. 

"I am sure that it will be safe there." 

o—o—o

Two hours later I stood in the Court of Judgment, waiting to give my oath of loyalty to the Chara. 

The court was considerably younger than the line of the Charas, of course, but it displayed much history. At its far end was a dais, with thirty steps representing the thirty council lords appointed by the Chara. ("Curse our Emorian passion for symbolism; a ten-step dais would have been easier on my knees," Nicholas had once told me.) Atop this was the white marble throne, flawless except for a chip where an assassin's dagger had hit the stone. The blade had travelled through Peter's great-great-grandfather on the way. Few Charas lived long, for they faced the triple threats of assassination, battle wounds, and plain fatigue. The council had urged the new Chara to protect himself better, but Peter's great-grandfather had simply smiled, sent slaves to clean the bloodstains off the throne, and continued the custom of requiring free-men to wear their weapons to the court. 

I could see the sparkle of sheathed blades in the crowd around me. Only one was unsheathed; that of the free-man who stood before Peter, reciting his oath. 

We had already passed through most of the ceremony. After the preliminary rites, Peter had been presented to the crowd, and Lord Dean had asked the people whether they would accept Peter as their master. The crowd's roar of approval had doubtless made its way over the black border mountains. The council porter had then hobbled up the steps on ancient and unsteady legs to present Peter with the oldest surviving law book. I fancied that I had seen Peter's hand shake as he kissed his pendant, set it on the open book, and then placed the pendant around his neck once more, but I was near the entrance to the court, too far away to be sure. 

There was no doubt that Peter had fumbled in accepting the royal shield from the hand of his chief subcommander, but he had recovered himself nicely and had presented the shield with a flourish, symbolizing the protection he would afford those under his care – not only those of us in the palace tonight, but everyone in his empire. Now all that remained were the oaths. 

We started with one of the scribes to the court clerk, representing the court. ("We ought really to start with the slaves," Peter had said wistfully. Lord Dean and I had exchanged glances, knowing which slave Peter would pick, and then our voices had tumbled over each other in our eagerness to explain why only free-men took oaths of loyalty.) The scribe was a boy several years younger than the Chara To Be and had been Peter's choice for the role. Peter had confided to me that he planned to appoint the scribe as the new court clerk when the present one retired. I had groaned inwardly, as one of the clerk's duties is to read evidence in the court, and this boy stuttered badly. But tonight, for the first and probably last time of his life, the stutter disappeared, and the scribe spoke with a clear voice that travelled even to where I stood. 

The court free-man was followed by the army free-man: a much-beloved captain named Malise who had been chosen by the army men themselves. Then it was my turn. 

It is a long way from the court entrance to the dais, and I had to make the trip in silence, with the eyes of several hundred people on me. I walked along the black carpet in carefully practiced stride, feeling my shoulders pressed by the unfamiliar weight of my ceremonial cloak, which I wore only on high occasions such as this. I kept my gaze firmly fastened on Lord Dean. He was awaiting me at the bottom of the steps, from which he had escorted the two preceding free-men. In fact, it was the High Lord's privilege to give the council's oath, but I gathered from gossip among the council officials that Peter had told Lord Dean – after several subtle hints on the subject had failed – that he would rather receive the council's oath from the bastard son of a palace dishwasher than from Lord Dean. 

I had never known what had caused the break between Lord Dean and the Chara's son, but apparently the High Lord had made some disastrous slip in his usual serpentine diplomacy and had failed to obtain the friendship from Peter that he had acquired from Peter's father. I was not sorry. 

Lord Dean, still attempting to win Peter over, had promptly asked for Peter's advice on a replacement, and the Chara's son had named me. Now, as I bowed to Lord Dean, I saw his eyes glint, and I knew that he preferred this role of gatekeeper in any case. It was a role that would allow him to watch everyone in the crowd and plot his next blackmail. 

He escorted me up the steps. I waited until he had returned to the bottom of the dais before raising my eyes to Peter. He was staring at me solemnly, in a face which the uninitiated probably thought was that of the Chara in judgment. I knew better, however; he was still wearing the formal lines of the Chara's son. No one who had seen the look of the Chara could ever mistake the difference. 

I waited a moment for the crowd to settle; then I pulled my sword from its sheath and held it fist against heart, so that its blade reached up to my forehead. When I spoke, it was in as loud a voice as I could manage. The scribe winced, but I needed to be heard in the far corners of the court. 

"I, Carle son of Verne, Lord of the Great Council, do make this vow unto the Chara Peter in the name of the council: that we will respect and obey the laws of Emor as they were given to the first Charas and as they are proclaimed by the Chara Peter, that we will use our weapons only as the Chara would have us do, and that we will serve the Chara with loyalty until death and beyond. This is our free-man's oath, sworn on this blade." 

Peter stood motionless as I spoke, staring down at me with unblinking eyes. ("Thank the laws of Emor for those final three throne steps," he had said earlier that week. "Do you suppose that they were added by a short Chara, or one who was just young, like me?") As I finished my oath, I joined the scribe and the captain by stepping to the left, turning my body so that I could see both the Chara and the crowd at the foot of the steps. Thus I witnessed the chilling moment when every man present silently removed his blade from his sheath and held it before his face, so that the crowd below appeared like an army about to attack. Then three hundred free-men spoke in one voice – except where the oaths varied – and gave their individual oaths of loyalty to the Chara. I repeated mine, replacing "we" with "I" this time. As the intonation reached an end, it was replaced by a silence so deep that it was as though we were all staring into the darkness at the edge of the world. 

Peter placed his right hand lightly on his hilt, but he did not raise the sword. His own oath was taken holding the Pendant of Judgment, which his fingers now enfolded. There was a pause, and the pause lengthened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lord Dean lower his sword slightly and stare up at the throne anxiously. This pause had not been scripted, and I began to rehearse in my mind the words of the Chara's oath in case Peter should turn to me for the cue. 

I ought to have known better. In the next moment, I saw that the pause had not been the result of some weakness of Peter's or even of some strength of his. It was the result of the Chara rising unbidden to the surface. Before my eyes I saw the transformation that few men have ever witnessed: the moment when the Chara To Be's face took on the look of the Chara in judgment. 

My breath halted in its tracks, and I could feel my blood throb. Gone, I knew, was the boy-heir I had tutored. He had been replaced by my new master. 

The Chara spoke his oath with firmness, and though his voice was louder than mine, the scribe did not wince this time. 

"I, Peter, the Great Chara of Emor and Its Dominions, Judge of the People, Commander of the Armies, Lord of the Marcardian Hills, Ruler of the Arpeshian Nation, Master of the Koretian Land, do make this vow unto you: that I will judge without favor to any man, that I will wreak vengeance upon my people's enemies, and that I will have mercy upon those who serve me with loyalty. This is the Chara's oath, sworn to those who are placed under my care and who receive my peace." 

The trumpets sounded, the swords were sheathed, and the Chara swept past me, descending the dais steps. This was not part of the script either – at least, not the script which had determined the enthronement ceremony of the past five generations. Peter, however, had quietly announced to the council that he wished to go down amongst the people to receive their welcome in person. The council dislikes breaks in tradition, but the lords had seen the look in Peter's eyes and had quickly voted to permit the change. 

After a decent interval to allow the crowd to thin and the Chara to depart, I left the court and went back to the Council Chamber, where the other lords were already gathered. To my surprise, I found that Peter had broken tradition once more, for instead of returning straight to his quarters, he had doubled back to the chamber and was greeting his council. 

I stayed by the door and would have slipped off to a corner unnoticed, but Peter caught my eye and came over to stand by me, followed in his wake by half a dozen lords who could no more stand to be parted from him than nursery children can stand to be parted from their mother. 

His face was still formal, but there was a lightness to his eyes as they met mine. He said, "I would like to see you in my quarters after the celebration here, if you have the time, Lord Carle." 

"As the Chara wishes." I bowed, less as a matter of form than to keep my calm collected. He left then, and I remained at the door for a spell, praying that the next time I saw him he would be wearing the face of Peter rather than that of the Chara. I had high respect for the office of the Chara, but I could no more have stood seeing Peter that way all the time than I could have drunk strong wine every moment of the day. 

o—o—o

After a while I became aware that the festivities had begun in the chamber. Wall-vine wine was being opened, cheese was being passed from hand to hand, and pastries were being placed on the council table. I could see Lord Dean keeping a careful watch on the table to be sure that nothing spilled on the antique wood. The lords were joined by other council officials: the map-makers, the treasurers, the dominion representatives, the liaisons to the land. The chamber was too small to contain them all, but people began gathering into smaller clusters, branching off into the adjoining rooms. 

I wandered from room to room, sampling the conversation. In the documents room, the council clerk, who was obviously miffed at his court colleague being passed over in honor in favor of a scribe, was giving a huffy speech about the importance of hierarchy in the structure of the law. The council scribes were snickering behind his back. In the library, the council law researchers were quizzing a court summoner who had wandered in – an elderly, taciturn man, who kept well away from court politics. The researchers were also engaging in quiet speculation over whether the new Chara would lean more toward vengeance or toward mercy; there had never existed a Chara who was perfectly balanced in his judgments. The porter was entertaining some of the council pages with a highly inaccurate description of what the Chara looked like close up. That group was huddled near the council table so that it could make quick forays to the refreshments. 

I stepped into the discussion room, where city and town and village leaders of Emor and its dominions brought the council the information it needed to decide how the empire was run. There I found Lord Alan, the Koretian governor, who had declined the council's invitation to attend the ceremonies, then accepted it, then implied that he was only accepting in the name of his dominion's people, not for any pleasure of his own. He was conversing intently with Lord Dean, and while I was sure the High Lord thought that he was extracting valuable information from the governor, I noted that Lord Alan was only mentioning matters which might please Lord Dean. I stored this information in my mind. I did not engage in the popular palace pastime of blackmail, but the governor's character might be of interest to the Chara in the future. Filled with a sudden distaste for the talk, I stepped back into the chamber to listen to the council lords. 

Here, in the time that it had taken me to survey the rest of the celebration, a division had taken place, so plain that I was surprised the porter had not placed flags at opposite ends of the room, in the fashion of two opposing armies meeting on a battlefield. At one end of the chamber was a large group consisting mainly of the junior council lords, praising the new Chara for his dignified behavior at the ceremony and making light-hearted jokes about how soon it would be before the Chara begot an heir. They were also pondering whether the Chara would require any assistance from the council lords in this begetting; several of the younger lords were eager to offer their services. Peter would have laughed at the jokes, but it was clear to me, from everything else which was said, that the ceremony had been nothing more to these men than an enjoyable break from the humdrum business of everyday council life. 

The other group, consisting mainly of the senior council lords, was praising the new Chara for his dignified behavior at the ceremony, in between trying to figure out how to undercut his policies. Unlike the junior council lords, they were aware of the significant change Peter had undergone: they knew that the Chara had power, and they were determined to see that this power was used in the way which best suited the council. 

I stood aloof from both groups; I must add in all fairness that so did several of the other council lords, both junior and senior. We were the ones who remembered that the Chara had power, but that it was the power of a master. In certain areas, the law declared that the Chara must defer to the council, but these were minor in comparison to the areas in which the council lords must be servants to the Chara. We remembered this, and, remembering this, we formed no faction. We had nothing to bind us together except our loyalty to the Chara. 

I watched for a while longer as Lord Dean joined the smaller of the two groups and began discussing, with more subtlety than the others, how the Chara might be brought to confer greater power on the council. Then, sickened, I left the chamber. 

The corridor outside was no less crowded. Council officials were mingling with court and army officials; free-servants ceased for a brief while their condescension toward slave-servants; and the palace was filled to the brim with women and children, an unusual sight on most evenings, since, with a very few exceptions, palace dwellers with families took quarters in the city. 

I made my way past the quarters of Peter's chief subcommander, who was the battlefield master of both the Emorian army and the imperial armies as a whole. The jokes there about the Chara's marital prowess were less sophisticated than the ones in the Council Chamber. I then circled around the front of the court to reach the southern corridor that led to my quarters. 

This was also the corridor that led past the Chara's quarters. A large crowd had gathered before the door, but they knew better than to come closer than a few spear-lengths to the guards. The gatherers did not expect even to view the Chara, since by custom the Chara saw no one except his closest friends on the enthronement night. 

I hesitated, and then squeezed my way through to the front of the crowd. My presence was as good as the Chara's voice; the spears snapped up once more. Behind me I could hear the crowd murmuring. The people were there mainly to see whom the Chara counted as a friend, so that they could later buy influence accordingly. I resigned myself to the knowledge that this visit would be followed by a profusion of attempted bribes from palace officials. None of that mattered to me in comparison to the enjoyment of seeing the Chara, newly enthroned. 

This time I did not bother to question the guards. I sailed past the men, hesitated a moment to unsheathe my sword, and opened the door without knocking. 

Inside, Peter and Andrew were next to each other, deep in conversation. 

Peter was reclining on his couch. He was still wearing the tunic and pendant of his formal dress, but his sword lay on the writing table, and his cloak was flung onto a chair nearby. ("Never let your master's cloak sit untouched for a single moment after he puts it down," I remembered hearing Henry tell Andrew. "Show your diligence by immediately placing the cloak on its proper hook.") Andrew was sitting on the floor next to his side, less than an arm's length away and with his eyes firmly fixed on the Chara's, as though he were presenting a model for all slaves on how _not_ to act toward their masters. His expression was as unreadable as always, but from the relaxed pose of his body, I gathered that he had been engaging in light-hearted talk with the Chara. 

This much I saw before the two turned to look at me with shock. 

Andrew was the first to react. He dipped his eyes and unhurriedly rose, walking over to gather up the Chara's cloak. As he turned toward me I could see, under his half-lowered lids, eyes cold with hatred. 

Peter had by now risen as well. His eyes were more guarded, but in them I could read, without question, a small spear of resentment at my entrance. He said coolly, "It is good to see you, Lord Carle. I did not think that you would be by here until later." 

He could not have made his lack of welcome more plain. My gaze fell, and rested upon the brooch in his hand. What, I wondered, had he been doing with it? Explaining the royal emblem to his slave? Giving Andrew a chance to hold the brooch? Or had Peter been using it as an example of the follies I had descended to in trying to slip my way into his heart? 

This way lay madness; I pushed aside such thoughts and said, "The guards allowed me in since you told them to expect me. I beg your pardon for not knocking. It is hard for me to remember that you are no longer a boy." 

"Yes." From the flatness of Peter's tone, I could tell that he did not remember our earlier conversation. He was simply offended that I had interrupted his private time with Andrew. He added, with careful courtesy, "Andrew, please take Lord Carle's cloak—" 

Andrew stepped forward, and I hastily waved him off. With Andrew's temper in its present state, I would not have put it past the boy to grab my sword and stab me with it. With my mind still on the script which I had rehearsed before my arrival and which was now irrevocably destroyed, I said, "I was on my way back to my quarters to change, but thought that I would stop to give you my congratulations." I raised my blade to my forehead. 

It was a mistake; I knew that even before I raised the sword. If we had been alone, Peter might have taken the salute for what it was, a private acknowledgment of our public relationship. But even if he had not been angry, Peter was not going to shame Andrew by suggesting that he might have as close a relationship with a council lord as he had with his slave. I did not wait for Peter to find something polite to say, but added hastily, "I will come by later, as you had requested. I am sorry to have disturbed you." 

I backed out then, closing the door quickly. But I hesitated at the last second to keep from slamming the door, and in the moment before the door closed completely, I heard Peter say, "Thank the laws that he's gone." Then the door shut, and I heard no more. The Chara's door is not made double thick for idle reasons. 

I made my way back through the crowd, which was now speculating on why I had spent so little time inside. I went to my quarters and stayed there. I did not return to the Chara that evening, nor did he ever ask me why I had not visited. I supposed that he had forgotten I was coming. 

Andrew moved into the Chara's quarters the next day.


	8. Description | 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**  
**966 a.g.l.**  


> _A proper grasp of the Description requires that students have a good understanding of the law's terminology. Perhaps the most cryptic law term is "ill-balanced." This term derives from the section of the law-structure which requires council lords to maintain a "balance of judgment." As is clear from the royal emblem, this concept has become central to the Emorian view of judgment. An "ill-balanced" lord is first of all one who has become unbalanced in the common sense of the word – that is, he is in some way emotionally disordered. This private condition may or may not affect the lord's public duties. If it does not, then of course the law takes no notice of the matter. But always in the law there is the hint that ill-balance is more than simply an unwilling and pitiable state of mind. There is a sense that this ill-balance is an act of willfulness (to use another law term), an act which cannot be fully excused by provocation. For this reason, a council lord who abuses his powers is disciplined for being "ill-balanced" in his judgments._

  
o—o—o

A full month passed before I gathered the courage to visit the Chara's quarters again. You may be sure that this time I knocked. 

I followed the muffled command to enter. As the door opened, I heard Peter say something and another man reply. It was not until the door was completely open that I was able to identify the voice: it was that of Andrew, who was standing in front of Peter as he handed the Chara an open book. 

I had a moment to remember the perplexity I had felt on the day after the enthronement, when I had met Andrew in the corridor, politely congratulated him on his new position, and discovered when Andrew replied that his voice had changed overnight. It was an affectation, of course; Andrew was no more capable of speaking normally in a man's voice than I was of speaking in a woman's. But if Andrew felt the need to pretend to manhood, I preferred this method over the alternative, which was for him to wear the dagger Peter had evidently given him along with his freedom. On two occasions I had seen Andrew wearing his free-man's weapon as he strode down the corridor toward the court. I could not help but wonder in the back of my mind whether Peter had supplied his own assassination weapon. 

Andrew was unarmed now, and as he turned away and sighted me, his eyes were filled, not with the rage I was accustomed to seeing, but rather with a cool wariness. If I had held any remaining sympathy for my former slave, I would have been pleased at this sign of growing maturity. As it was, I took care to greet Andrew first before bowing to Peter, knowing that this would please the latter more than if I followed formal procedure. 

Peter indeed watched our exchange with a smile; then he found an excuse to send Andrew out of the quarters and invited me to join him in sitting near the window, where he was reading. He had spread a number of law books on the bookcase ledge next to him. 

"I wish that you had come by before now," he said. "I suppose that you and the other lords have been busy entertaining all those foreign guests who came for the enthronement, but I've been feeling like a small child let loose on a battlefield. I thought that I had mastered most of my father's duties before his death, but I've found that I only learned a small portion of what he does." 

I glanced over at the law books Peter had sworn he would never touch again after I released him from my tutorship four months before. His renunciation had not bothered me, both because he knew the major laws by heart and because I did not expect this vow to remain unbroken for long. 

"It looks as though you are going back to your earliest duties," I said. 

"Only to try to remember the major court cases involving the Three Lands. Of all the problems I'm finding hardest, it's in dealing with our two southern neighbors. I would have thought that a thousand years' worth of war would have settled the conflicts between the three of us." 

"I had been under the impression that Daxis remained a strong ally." 

"Oh, it does, of course. There is a minor uproar at the moment over the Daxion Ambassador's visit last winter; I can't quite sort out what it's about because I thought that we had come to a successful settlement over the disputed area. I suppose that you can give me the whole story one day, but in the meantime I'm letting the court officials handle matters there because I'd much rather spend my time worrying about Koretia." 

I glanced down at the volume Peter had been holding before. The book was open to the Justification of the law describing the procedures for freeing a slave. I supposed that one Koretian in particular occupied Peter's mind, and I wondered how much influence Andrew would have on the new Chara's foreign policies. Hiding my uneasiness, I said, "I doubt that you have much to worry about where Koretia is concerned. The rebellion there seems close to dying; there have been fewer and fewer problems with the Jackal every year since Koretia became a dominion. It is hard for the Jackal to continue to argue that Emor's rule is mere tyranny when it is obvious that the Koretians are receiving many benefits and are contented as a result." 

"I wish that I could believe that," said Peter, tipping the back of his chair against the wall. "About the Koretians being contented, I mean. They are obviously benefitting from Emorian rule; from what I understand, it used to be that not a year went by without the land being torn apart by some blood feud. The introduction of the courts has changed all that, of course; now the Koretians have a peaceful way to settle their differences. But the Koretians still appear unhappy with being part of the empire." 

"It will take them a few years to adjust to being your subjects, that is all," I said soothingly. 

"I hope so. But I must face the possibility that they will not become reconciled, so I have asked the court historian to check whether Emor has ever freed one of its dominions." 

My breath caught at the back of my throat. This was far worse than I had feared. It seemed that Andrew had gained a position, not only as the Chara's free-servant, but as the Chara's foreign advisor. "You cannot be contemplating such a move as that," I declared. "Have you forgotten why your father made Koretia a dominion in the first place? You spoke of blood feuds a moment ago. Do you want that land to return to its barbaric days when even Koretians who might have been law-loving men were forced to become murderers because the Koretians had no lawful means of avenging crimes? Without the Chara's law, there was nothing to keep the Koretians from engaging in bloodshed and civil war, and you know what happened when that civil war spilled over into Emor." 

"I haven't forgotten. I know that this whole predicament began when Koretia slaughtered the borderland villagers, and I know that, if I free Koretia, it may attack Emor again. But I cannot continue to hold the land in slavery by keeping large numbers of troops there. If the Koretians don't become reconciled to Emorian rule, then eventually one of two things must happen: either I will have to free Koretia, or I will have to go to war to subjugate the land more thoroughly. Neither prospect pleases me, but I have to look into the possibility of one of those events happening." 

"I can assure you that I know as much about Koretia as your father did, and I am certain that the Koretians will come to see the benefits of Emorian law," I cried passionately. "Lord Peter, you cannot and you must not free Koretia!" 

In the following moment of silence, Peter slowly lowered the front legs of his chair onto the floor again. He had a cool look of defiance in his eyes that I had seen many times over the past two years, a look I had always met on such occasions as this by forcing the boy to accept the wisdom of his elders. I opened my mouth to do so again— 

And then the final words I had spoken penetrated my mind, and I realized who I was addressing. 

A deathlike chill travelled down my spine, and my gaze fled from Peter's face with the haste of a soldier who has just realized that he has placed himself in peril. For a long moment I stared at the floor, afraid of what I would see when I raised my eyes. But when I looked up, Peter's face was the same as before, except that a look of pain had entered his eyes that I had never before seen, though I had seen it many times in the eyes of his father. 

My voice forced low by fear and repentance, I said, "Chara, I hope that you will accept my deepest apology. I had forgotten that I am no longer your tutor." 

The Chara was silent a moment before saying, "Carle, you will always be my tutor, and I will always seek your advice, for that reason and because you are my friend. But I must do what I believe is right." 

"You should not have needed to say those words to me, Chara." 

He rose abruptly then. Turning toward the window, he placed his hand against the wall above the window and leaned forward, looking out toward the black border mountains. At least, that is what I suppose he wanted me to think, but his back was hunched in a defeated pose I had never seen him in before, and I could sense that his eyes were staring blindly. 

When he spoke again, his voice was soft and hesitant. "I too am finding this transition hard. Despite what you and my father told me, I didn't fully realize until I took the throne what it would be like to be without any master. If I had known . . ." He allowed his voice to die. I could guess what the rest of his sentence was, but I knew that he would never speak the words to me or anyone else. 

I had risen a few seconds after he did; it would take time before I did this as automatically as I had done it for his father. Now I said, "I can offer you little comfort in this matter, Chara, except to observe that you do have one master: the law. The law is a strict and exacting master, and if you remember that and dedicate yourself to serving it, you may find it easier to accept the service of your subjects." 

Even before he turned back, I could sense his smile. He said with an easy voice, "I don't know why I didn't seek your advice on this earlier. I ought to have known you could help; you've always helped me in the past." 

"There are some matters I doubt that I will be able to help you with in the future. Only your father could have helped you with them, but as you say, you could not have known the questions to ask him until you yourself were Chara. For what help I can give you, you may be sure that I will always be here." 

Peter's smile turned crooked. "You should not have needed to say those words to me, Carle. Your friendship is the bedrock on which I stand. Yours and—" He stopped. 

He would not have stopped a month before. I mentally cursed myself for having allowed him to guess my feelings about Andrew, so that this barrier now stood between us. The best I could do was to make clear that he need not fear mentioning Andrew to me, so I said, "I am sure that Andrew's decision to become your free-servant was a great comfort to you. Since we are on the subject of Koretia again, will you tell me how you contemplate freeing the land?" 

"It may not be necessary," said Peter, seating himself once more, "and it may not be possible. Carle, do sit down. It makes me dizzy to look up at you." 

I did so, and he said, "It may not be possible to free Koretia for two reasons. One is that I do not know into whose hands I could give the government. The only strong leader in that land is the Jackal, and it would be cutting my own throat to make him ruler. But a more serious problem is that it seems I do not have the power to free Koretia. Am I right about that?" 

"That is indeed the case, Chara. As a lord I am naturally always eager to retain what slim powers the Chara allows the council." I paused to exchange smiles of amusement with Peter. "In this particular case, I do approve of the division of powers." 

"Lord Dean explained it to me yesterday. Tell me if I have this law mastered." Peter screwed up his face as he always did when trying to memorize a particularly tough passage. "As long as Koretia remains without a governor, it is placed under the care of the Chara. But once the Chara appoints a governor, the dominion is transferred into the care of the council. I cannot interfere with the council's running of the land. Freeing Koretia would certainly be interference. Is all that correct?" 

"Quite correct, Chara." 

"Do any laws exist that would allow me to place Koretia back under my care?" 

It was a measure of Peter's trust in me that he would ask such a question. He had not bothered to ask me whether the council would vote to allow him to free Koretia, for he knew full well that it would not. He knew, moreover, that I would be one of those who would vote against giving him such power. Yet he also knew that he could always depend on me to give him an honest answer to a question about the law, whether or not the law worked to my advantage. 

I considered his question for several minutes before saying, "I know of only one law that might be of help to you. Though the governor's appointment is for life, after he dies it is your duty to pick his successor. The law says that, during the period between the appointments, the dominion is under the care of the Chara. Therefore, you would have the power to free Koretia after Lord Alan dies." 

"That could be many years from now." 

"It is the only solution I can think of myself, but your clerk may be able to suggest other ideas. He is the court official who usually has the best knowledge of the law. Tell me, what makes you believe that the Koretians are not accepting Emorian rule?" 

He told me, and when he had finished, I did not make the mistake of telling him whether I approved or disapproved of his views. I simply said, "It sounds as though much would become clearer if you could obtain more information on Koretia." 

"That is precisely my problem," said Peter. He placed one of the law books on his lap – it was the one on the structure of dominion governance – and began ruffling the pages with one finger. "You helped Lord Dean examine the spy reports last winter, correct? Did you have the same impression I did, that they contained important gaps in information?" 

"I failed to notice it at the time, but I would be glad to go back through the reports and check. Do you have any theories as to why such gaps would exist?" 

"I was hoping that you might tell me. You have experience in the area." 

"Well," I said reflectively, "if these were spies sent to one of the other dominions, I would assume the problem simply to be incompetency. Stupidity is more common among spies than you would think. But in the case of Koretia, the land of deception, my guess is that your spies are not truly loyal to you, but to the man they consider their master." 

"Double espionage, you mean? That is a notion worth considering, Carle. Many of my spies are Koretian-born, as you know; I suppose it's true that the Jackal could have won their loyalty, perhaps even after they started working for me. It's the sort of thing I would expect from him." 

"It may be that the only 'winning' they require is a little gold," I said dryly. "I'm afraid that the standards for becoming one of the Chara's spies have never been high." I waited for a protest, but Peter remained silent, as he always did when listening to someone who had greater expertise in a subject than he possessed. I concluded, "It is worth looking into when you have the time. But in the meantime, we must find you a surer source of information on the land. Have you considered speaking with some of the Koretians in the palace? There are quite a number of them here." 

I phrased my words carefully, not sure how Peter would take this suggestion, but he smiled and shook his head. "There is only one here who has taken an oath of loyalty to me, and I don't want to force Andrew to provide information against his native land – not unless matters become worse than they are at present. It was hard enough for him to decide to stay in Emor. He told me— He doesn't often tell me things like this, so it must have been bothering him a great deal. He told me that his decision forced him to break a vow he had once made." 

I hesitated, and then decided that any person who was supposed not to know anything, such as myself, would ask the obvious question. "Did he say what his vow was?" 

"No, and of course I didn't ask. I suppose it doesn't matter, really; the breaking of any oath is a serious matter. I couldn't help but feel humbled that he would do such a thing for me." 

"Well," I said, the relief in my heart lending sincerity to my words, "as you say, oath-breaking is a serious matter, and it is hard to know when to trust a man who has broken one loyalty in order to take up another. But sometimes it is both necessary and right to forswear vows, and this may be such a case. At any rate" – I was prepared to be generous at this juncture – "Andrew has certainly acquired a new composure since you gave him his freedom. I have seen him talking with the other free-servants, and he has shown the sort of dignity and poise I would expect from a man in his position. It may be that you have inherited your father's talent for making wise appointments." 

Peter smiled broadly. "I don't think that anything has ever made me so happy as seeing Andrew's expression in the moment after I handed him his manumission paper. It made me wonder why Emor has slavery at all. Perhaps we should abolish it, as we abolished it in Koretia. Surely it is better to depend on the service of loyal free-servants than on that of slave-servants who have taken no oath of loyalty." 

"The council abolished slavery in Koretia because the institution there was irrevocably tied to certain religious atrocities," I said. "The situation is not the same here. Loyal slave-servants exist – and for that matter, treacherous free-servants exist. You really cannot be sure about the loyalty of any of your subjects, slave or free." 

"I can be sure of yours, and of Andrew's, of course," said Peter, oblivious to my hint. "For we have double ties – not only that of our oaths of loyalty, but also that of friendship. I suppose that I ought to regard that as my second master: the duty I owe to my friends." 

o—o—o

I did not see Peter much during the next month. After our first meeting, I decided that the best way for both of us to adjust to our reversal of master and servant was for me to allow Peter time alone to become acquainted with his new role. I therefore confined my conversations with him to occasions when we were surrounded by other people, so that I would not be tempted to address him in an inappropriate manner. 

I more often saw Andrew, at least at a distance. Andrew had held a reputation since his arrival at the palace of being cold and uncommunicative, even with the other slaves. Now I began seeing him deep in conversation with the other free-servants and even, on a few occasions, with some of the slave-servants whom he had formerly scorned. From what Henry told me, Andrew's coldness had not lessened; he remained formal and distant in his relations with all except Peter. But he was beginning to reveal a strange capacity for mediation. More than once, he intervened in the quarrels that forever spring up in the closed community of the palace servants, and managed by some trick to bring about peace. 

If certain servants had done this, I would have suspected that they were trying to gain power. With other servants, I would have thought that they were motivated by charity. In Andrew's case, I remained puzzled. It was some time before it occurred to me that he might be acting as he did in order to please Peter, who disliked the frequent feuds. If there was one fact that had long since become clear, it was Andrew's ferocious determination to eliminate any obstacles in the path between himself and Peter. 

Of course, I remained one such obstacle, and our first battle after the enthronement ended, as always, with victory for Andrew. But I would willingly have ceded the entire war to Andrew if it could have saved me the sight I encountered one day in late summer: the sight of Peter sobbing as though he had been struck with a mortal blow. 

It was my own fault, once more, for entering the Chara's quarters without permission. I had knocked this time, but the guards had told me that the Chara was working in his sleeping chamber and was unlikely to hear my rap. So, ignoring my lesson from the previous occasion, I walked back to the sleeping chamber, swung forward the half-open door, and met the eyes of the tear-stained Chara. 

He was sitting on the floor, facing the bed upon which his arms were folded. His head had been buried in those arms a moment before. I stared at him speechlessly. I was sure that Peter had cried on many occasions over the years, but I doubted that even his father had witnessed this happening. Now, looking down at his reddened eyes and his golden hair turned brown with dampness, I felt as though I had intruded on a scene of great sacredness. I took a step backwards. 

"Please don't go," Peter whispered. He paused, then added, "I can't keep this to myself any longer." 

I waited, but he said nothing more, and after a moment his face fled to the refuge of his arms once again. He made no noise, but I could see his shoulders shaking. 

I could not leave, but I was not going to further humiliate him by watching this. I went over to a table at the far end of the room, picked up a law book there, and began leafing through it. After several minutes, I turned the book right side up and made another futile attempt to concentrate my mind on the words before me. 

"Chara?" 

The voice was not mine; it was strained, and had always been strained during the time that I had known it. Andrew stood at the doorway of the sleeping chamber, staring at Peter. Then he sighted me and there was a flash of understanding in his eyes. 

That is, understanding as he saw it. Gone was the old unreasoning rage I was used to seeing in him. Now he looked upon me with contempt. After a moment he turned his gaze back toward Peter, and I put the book down, waiting to be dismissed from the Chara's presence. But Peter shook his head at Andrew, and with one final, fleeting look of scorn at me, Andrew left. 

I waited until the corridor door had closed; then I went and opened that door myself. Andrew was nowhere to be seen. I said in a low voice to the guards, "The Chara does not wish to be disturbed." This caused the guards to look my way uncertainly – only the Chara may give orders to his personal guards – but I thought that this would at least keep them from allowing in Peter's slave-servants. 

Returning to the sleeping chamber, I found Peter in the same position as before, but now he was staring up at me mutely. I waited again, and finally, as though dredging the words up from some unimaginably deep pit, he said, "My son died." 

Hidden under all the tears I could see a small red mark left by a razor cut; unlike his father, who had served in the army before his enthronement, Peter had decided to follow the Emorian civilian custom of being clean-shaven. As yet there was still little for him to shave. I stepped forward, sat down beside him on the floor, and said, "Perhaps you should start at the beginning." 

He looked down at his bed-sheet, and then wiped his face clean on his tunic-sleeve and took a deep breath. "It was last winter. You remember how I was then. I didn't even tell you how bad it was. I had reached the point where I was convinced that I was unfit to become Chara, for I couldn't stand another moment of my life. Everything became better after you convinced my father to change my schedule. But before then—" 

He stopped, and I said gently, "Go on." 

He swallowed. "I had a slave-servant, Laura." 

He paused, as though waiting for me to comment, but I merely nodded. I remembered the girl in a vague sort of manner – a sweet, innocent girl who was a striking contrast to Andrew. She had caused me to wonder once at the varied qualities in Peter's slave-servants, but I had given her no more thought than that. 

Peter continued, "I used to talk to her while she was cleaning my chamber, partly because it was a way for me to escape from my work, and partly because it was a way to defy you. I knew that you hated when I was familiar with my slaves. And then one day—" He stopped again, but this time I did not have to prompt him. He said rapidly, "Afterwards, I could see what a terrible thing I had done. I had brought dishonor upon Laura, and she was as ashamed as I was at the way in which we had allowed our passion to override our good sense. Not long after that, my schedule changed, so I arranged with her that she would only come by when I wasn't in my chamber. Then one day I arrived back and found she was waiting for me." 

I decided that it would be kinder for me to supply the missing words this time, so I said, "She told you she was with child." 

He nodded. "I was terrified; I didn't know what to do. I knew that the court officials would never allow me to marry her. So I went to my father." 

He spoke this last sentence with a simplicity which revealed the deep trust that had always existed between the Chara Nicholas and his son. Peter knew as well as I did the grave danger he had brought upon our land by his action. Royal bastards could not inherit the throne, but that had not prevented them from trying to do so in the past. Through one careless act, Peter had brought about the possibility of future civil war in Emor, and if there was any man who could be counted on to judge Peter heavily for what he had done, it was the man who held Emor in his care. Yet still Peter had gone to see him. 

"He told me that he wouldn't allow the child to come to any harm," said Peter. "That made all the difference to me. He would have had every right to have the child killed before it was born, yet he didn't. I felt as though he had spared my own life. He said that the child must never know its true parentage, and that he would arrange for Laura to be honorably married. He believed that, for the child's sake, she would tell no one the truth. Then he commanded me to put the matter from my thoughts." 

"And did you?" The answer did not really matter to me, but I knew how hard it must be for Peter to tell me all of this, and I wanted to assist him by means of whatever questions I could. 

"I tried to, but— I don't know whether you can understand this, Carle. I wasn't upset any more after my father told me of his plans, but I couldn't forget the child. I knew that I would never see it, but I couldn't help being happy that I would have a child somewhere in the land. This was when I was memorizing my family line, and it pleased me to know that I had a descendent, even if it wasn't truly mine. This probably makes no sense to you." 

I looked down at him, the son of my closest friend, the only young man I would ever raise. "I understand." 

He was silent a while before saying, "Then you'll understand what this meant to me." 

He lifted a document from the floor and handed it to me, placing his finger near the end of the list printed on it. It took me a minute to figure out what I was reading. Since the Chara never leaves the palace, it is easy for palace dwellers such as myself to forget that he owns houses throughout Emor. These other dwellings serve as homes for local officials and are run by them, but by law all of the belongings of the houses are the Chara's. What I was reading was a report of the births, deaths, and sales of the Chara's servants – not the twelve hundred palace servants, but the ones who lived elsewhere in the land. Toward the bottom of the sheet was a single sentence: "Born to Laura, slave-servant, lately of the Chara's palace: a boy, stillborn." 

I looked up from the sheet. Peter had gone rigid in the manner of a prisoner awaiting judgment. I said, "Chara, nothing I can say can begin to comfort you for such a loss." 

He relaxed then and bowed his head. His hand, which had been hidden behind his back, crept back onto his lap. "I was so afraid you would say, 'This saves Emor from civil war.' I know that it does; I know that I ought to be thinking of that alone. But I cannot." 

"I am not inhuman, Chara. There is no man alive who could not understand what you are undergoing at this moment. All I can say is that, while nothing can make up for what has happened, you still have many years left in which to beget other sons and daughters." 

"I know," he said softly. "I know that I will recover from this. My mother had stillborn children before I was born, and my father was able to contain his grief. But I can't help thinking that this is different. It was my fault that the child was begotten, so I keep feeling that it was my fault he died. I have placed men under the high doom since I became Chara, but it is far harder to know that I placed my own son under the high doom." 

It would do no good, I knew, for me to point out that the child could not have died if Peter had not first given him life. What bothered Peter was that the child would not have existed in the first place if the Chara's son had not strayed from his duty. Whether the child had lived or died, Peter would have to spend the rest of his life knowing that he disobeyed the Chara's unspoken command – that, in effect, he transgressed the Law of Grave Iniquity. 

I could do as I had done in the past: offer Peter distant, formal comfort based on my knowledge of the law. I had no doubt that this would help him in some way. But his pain was one I understood so intimately that, for the first time since the days when I was a young man, I found myself sharing with another person one of my own self-doubts. 

"We have all done things we regret deeply, Chara Peter." Peter looked up at me, catching my slight step toward informality. "Five years ago, I gelded a new slave-servant, and I have regretted that act ever since." 

Peter said quietly, "I have often wondered about that." 

"Yet you have never asked me about it, for which I am grateful. I would like to think that I gelded Andrew simply in order to teach a particularly obstinate slave the consequences of disobedience. That was what I told myself at the time. But the simple fact is that I was afraid of him. He had tried to kill three men during the period before I bought him, and I suspected that he would try to kill me as well." I had also worried that he would kill the Chara, but I said nothing of this to Peter. "So, as you did, I acted on the passion of the moment, and I will have to live with the evil I did for the rest of my life. In a strange way, though, it has given me greater motivation to discipline my servants. I want them to have enough capacity for controlling themselves that they are not enslaved by their passions as I was. In this way, I can at least be consoled by the thought that some good came from my deed." 

"I can understand doing something wrong because you fear for your life," murmured Peter, "but you have never given way to lust – have you?" He looked at me uncertainly. 

"No, but I think that good fortune plays a part there. I was raised, as you were, under a strict father, and by the time I reached the age at which I could rebel against him, I had joined the army, where I found myself too busy to worry about women. After that, I moved to the palace, where almost no free-women live and where I initially had no slave-servants of my own. So I was spared facing temptation at the age when such desires come strongest. In any case, I doubt that you were drawn to Laura out of simple lust." 

The side of Peter's mouth quirked upwards. "No. Nothing is simple in this tale, least of all how I will master my grief during the coming weeks. But I am glad – very glad – that I can finally tell you of this. My father forbade me from speaking about it to anyone, and now that I am free of his command I can't even tell Andrew, for it would only serve to remind him that he cannot have sons of his own. So you are the only one I could speak to about this. Thank the Charas' wisdom that you are here for me to turn to." 

The trumpets sounded outside. Peter sighed and said, "I'm scheduled to meet during this hour with Lord Dean. I can only pray that he is less perceptive in reading me than he usually is. It is fortunate for me that you came by, but would you mind leaving now so that I can have a few minutes to gather my thoughts together?" 

"Certainly, Chara." I rose from the floor where I had been sitting. "If you wish to speak of this matter later, I can come by this evening." 

"Do come by, but I don't think that it would be a good idea for me to speak of it again. As my father would have said, this conversation is something I should try to forget." Peter gave me a faint smile, and I predicted to myself that, by the time Lord Dean arrived, Peter would look as cheerful as he always did. Lord Dean was a shrewd man, but he was no match for a Chara. 

I went into the sitting chamber, opened the door to the corridor, heard the spears snap up – the guards had evidently decided to trust that my command came from the Chara – and found myself looking into the eyes of Andrew, who was standing rigidly against the opposite wall. 

I supposed that this was the first time that Andrew had ever found himself barred from Peter's presence. I would have felt sympathy for him if I had not been struck with apprehension by his expression. I had never been afraid of him during his slave years; it was clear then that his rage was too uncontrolled for him to cause me any harm, even if he gave way to it. But now there was a composed determination about his expression that made me realize that our future relations were going to be very different. 

He said coolly, "I would like to have a private word with you, Lord Carle, if you can spare the time." 

Free-servants do not normally demand audiences from council lords, but I decided that I was lucky that Andrew had not chosen to hold his conversation here in the corridor. Without a word, I gestured toward the door of Peter's old chamber, and then entered it myself without looking behind me. As I turned my back on Andrew, I felt a certain tenseness in my spine that had not been there since my army days. 

Peter's old room had been stripped of its furnishings, but its beauty had always arisen from the patterns caused by the light flowing through its windows. The light was still there, soft after making its way through the Emorian clouds, and it occurred to me that I should suggest to Peter that he cut a door between this room and his quarters, in case he would like to use his attractive childhood chamber as a place to relax. 

It was not a place of relaxation at the moment. Andrew and I looked at each other with the wariness of two men about to engage in a duel. 

I did not allow Andrew's silence to goad me into speaking first. Finally Andrew said, "You are not the Chara's tutor any more, Lord Carle, so perhaps it would be a good idea for you to find yourself another student to punish." 

My breath was taken away – not by the boldness of Andrew's speech, which was what I might have expected from him, but by the calmness with which he delivered it. It seemed that Andrew had received something more valuable than a manumission paper on the night that Peter asked him to be his free-servant. Now I felt as though I were dealing with the cold calculations of a rival lord. 

Whatever I said, it must be something that restored the proper relationship between us. I had no intention of telling Andrew what had really been going on in the Chara's quarters, not only because Peter had spoken to me in confidence, but also because I would not demean myself by offering a defense. I looked at Andrew, weaponless and yet more dangerous to me than any other man in the palace, and I said, with equal calmness, "The Chara is not my student, Andrew; he is my master. I feel no desire to jump from one master to another, unlike some of his other subjects." 

I could tell from the look in his eyes that I had drawn blood, but it could only have been a surface wound, for he replied, "I have no need to apologize for the fact that I was born Koretian. It is enough to say that I am now Emorian and will remain true to the Chara." 

Up until that point I had held no doubts that he would do so, as his love for Peter was manifest. But as we stared into each other's eyes – this was one of Andrew's greatest pleasures these days, showing me that he could meet my eyes as a fellow free-man – I saw a flicker of self-doubt as he spoke his words. So intent was I on making my way through Andrew's guard that I did not even think of the consequences of this discovery for Peter. I simply allowed myself to smile. Andrew's gaze suddenly shifted away. 

"I do not doubt that you will remain true to the Chara," I said smoothly. "You are too intelligent to do otherwise. You have been in this land long enough to know what is done to those who disobey the Chara, much less those who try to cause him harm. Fear will prevent you from breaking your loyalty oath – if nothing else." 

"I do not need fear to make me follow the Chara." Andrew's voice was somewhat fainter. 

"No? Well, in any case, I suppose that the Chara cannot offer you the full range of fear that would confront any other planned assassin. Assassins, you know, are given a Slave's Death, and the first step in a Slave's Death is gelding. I have already saved the Chara time by taking care of that part of the procedure." 

I was aware that my words to Andrew contradicted the shame I had confessed to Peter not long before, but I had long since learned that Andrew's greatest vulnerability lay in what I had made him. And so, like a man who can only accomplish a killing by wounding himself in the same moment, I cast my blade forward and waited to witness Andrew's pain. 

Two months before, I would have seen the wound in his eyes. Now he stood very still, his gaze rising to meet mine once more as he said with soft viciousness, "And do you think that the Chara honors you for that? If you believe that the Chara is pleased by the discipline that you use, you are sadly mistaken. You claim to revere the law, yet you are like a Balance of Judgment that has lost its Heart of Mercy – the balance has fallen askew to one side. You may think that you are the Chara's loyal servant, but there is no loyalty in distorting the law in that way." 

I did not for an instant believe that Andrew was stating to me Peter's own words, nor did I believe that I was what Andrew thought I was – an unmerciful master. Yet I suppose that his words sparked in me the fear held by every man who works with the law: that my attempts at balanced judgment had been balanced only in my own eyes. There came to me the image of Peter crying – not crying today, but crying several months before, when I had beaten him, less because he required it than because I had lost my temper. This image crowded out all other images, and it was some minutes before I realized that I was alone in the room. 

By the time I left the chamber, I had put the matter from my mind. Like Peter, I would have to live with what I had done. But I knew that I would never forgive Andrew for using that weapon against me.


	9. Justification | 1

##  **_Law of Vengeance 3_**

##  **JUSTIFICATION**

> _Justification (law term):_ Passage within a law that gives the reason for the law's existence, based as much as possible on the law-structure.

  
**CHAPTER ONE**   
**986 a.g.l.**   


> _The heart of every law is of course the Justification, and it cannot be stressed too strongly that the Justification would not exist without the law-structure. The law-structure, which describes the behavior of the Chara and his council, both separately and in relation to each other, serves as a model for the way in which obedience to the law brings harmony to the people of this land. When disobedience occurs or is threatened, that harmony quickly disintegrates. In this way, it is not an exaggeration to say that every crime is an attempt to murder the law._

  
o—o—o

"So what was it like for you, growing up in the Chara's palace, Ambassador?" asked Lord Neville. 

Andrew cast a cool gaze in his direction. I knew this was not caused by Neville's reference to his servile past; I had heard Andrew mention his common origins several times since his arrival. I could also be sure that Andrew's unpleasant mood did not derive from the fact that Peter had delayed for two months before finding the time to hold this reception for the Koretian Ambassador. Andrew's anger, whatever its cause, had been apparent for several weeks, particularly when he was in my presence. 

But he was too well-trained a diplomat to give voice to his hidden thoughts. "I suppose that it was no different than growing up anywhere else, Lord Neville," he replied politely. "It had its good points and its bad points." 

"And what was the best of its good points?" asked Neville, beckoning casually to one of the slaves who was presently circling the Map Room with food and drink trays. 

"The pleasure of the Chara's company, naturally. —No, thank you, Philippa." This comment was directed to the slave who was offering us more wine. 

"And the worst of its bad points?" Neville's eye continued to rove the room. We were toward the end of the reception, and most of the other lords and officials had left. Even the Chara had excused himself, saying that he had papers to review in his quarters. Ursula had of course departed when he did, though I thought that her look had lingered on the rest of us as she left her brother's reception. 

Andrew did not even glance my way. "The lack of wild-berry wine," he said smoothly. "I have never been able to adjust my palate to Emorian wine." 

"Speaking of Emorian food, what do you suppose this is?" James joined us, holding up a wizened ball that had once been something edible. 

I took it from his hands and glanced at it a moment before placing it on a passing tray. "A low-branch apple. This has been a bad year for pickings." 

"You astound me, High Lord," said James with open admiration. "Is this training I will receive when I become a senior lord?" 

I ignored the assumption behind his question and said, "My father was an orchard farmer. I still run that orchard – or rather, I should say that my orchard-keeper runs it and occasionally allows me to offer him a word or two of advice." 

"I always assumed that you came from a rich and noble family," said James. "Are you trying to tell me that you too have humble origins?" 

"I imagine that orchard farmers must make a fair amount of money in a land with no trees," contributed Andrew. 

"Not enough," I said shortly. "I would have had to sell my home years ago if it had not been for my council salary." 

"Yes, when I arrived here, I was surprised to learn how well the lords are paid," said James. "It made me feel guilty, accepting so much money." 

I cast my gaze at him. "You seem to have overcome your guilt. Is that your third new tunic this month or your fourth?" 

James blushed. "My fourth." 

"There is no need for you to dress yourself like a peacock, Lord James," said Neville. "You are not that hard to see at the end of the table." 

"Well, I want to make a good impression," said James defensively. "It has been a long time since you and Lord Carle arrived at the palace, so you have no idea how hard it is to find ways to impress people with the seriousness of your intentions. I know that I look vain wearing all these new clothes, but I really care nothing for them. I just want people to notice that I am here." 

"It is possible to establish a bad reputation as well as a good one." I was more severe than I would ordinarily have been because my feet were tired but I did not want to leave James alone in the company of Andrew. I still worried that James would stray into a discussion of whether ambassadors could negotiate with the council, a discussion that might eventually reach the ears of the Chara. However much trouble James was causing me these days, I had no wish to find myself in the position of offering witness against him in a trial. 

Andrew had been murmuring his thanks to a slave who offered him some nuts. Now he said, "I imagine that all of us try to establish reputations at some point, Lord Carle. I recall Henry telling me that, when you were a junior lord, you spent a good deal of time telling people how skilled a disciplinarian you had become in the army." 

Neville covered a smile. James, with his unfailing capacity for homing in on embarrassing topics, said, "Who is Henry?" 

"My former free-servant." 

The abruptness of my tone did not deter James from asking, "Have I ever met him?" 

Andrew inserted smoothly, "Henry is a sorry tale of a good servant gone bad. I am sure that Lord Carle would prefer not to discuss one of his failures in discipline. By the gods, Patrick, are these what I think they are?" 

The slave-servant hovering at his elbow dropped the hard candies into Andrew's hand in a familiar fashion. "Philippa made them especially for you when she heard about this reception." 

"Please thank her; I dream about her candies sometimes. This is food from the gods." Andrew addressed this last remark to the rest of us as he held out his hand to offer the candies to us. "I sometimes think that the only way in which I made it through five years of slavery was through compensations like this." 

Neville took one of the candies; I declined. James, popping two candies into his mouth at once, said, "You don't have any slaves in Koretia, do you? Does that work out well?" 

"I believe that you have a shortage of free-servants," inserted Neville. 

"That is true. The Koretians believe, though, that the abolishment of slavery is one of the benefits they received from Emorian rule. Of course, it isn't so hard for Koretians to be short of servants, because the line between servant and master is such a thin one in that land. Masters often take on the jobs of servants, and servants the jobs of masters, depending on what work needs to be done." 

"Somehow, this does not surprise me," I said, keeping my voice from becoming caustic. We were, after all, at an official reception. "And do you have any trouble keeping discipline at the Koretian palace?" 

Andrew's eyes held a glint of amusement in them. "Under the Jackal, Lord Carle? You evidently did not become well enough acquainted with Koretia's ruler during your visit there. I have been fortunate enough to escape ever meeting the Jackal's wrath, but I have seen the hunting god out for blood, and it is not a pleasant sight. It is akin to watching the Chara in judgment." 

I knew that Andrew's words had a double purpose; I had heard him issue similar reminders to Peter during his visit, although the Chara had shown little concern. I said, "And outside the palace?" 

"Outside . . ." Andrew's eye was on the slave-servants, who were beginning to gather up the trays as the last of the other guests departed. "Outside the palace, the Koretians remember that we are all servants in the eyes of the gods. —Let me take that, Patrick." He scooped a tray out of the hands of the slave. "Does this go down in the pantry?" 

"Yes, but not the old pantry," Patrick replied with ease. He had seemingly become infected by Andrew's lifelong disregard for hierarchy. "That room has been locked off for years. There's a new pantry now, across from the punishment room. It's past the area for Lord Wolcott's slaves—" 

"I remember the way," said Andrew, and started toward the door with the tray. 

I turned to see that James had grabbed another tray off of a slave-servant. Neville and I exchanged glances and then followed the others. 

We made quite a spectacle in the corridor. I do not imagine that there are many occasions on which palace dwellers are privileged to see serving trays held by a foreign ambassador and a council lord. Andrew's behavior was no concern of mine, but I began to work out in my mind how exactly I could chastise James without casting aspersions on the actions of the Koretian Ambassador. 

I allowed myself to drift back, unhappy at the idea of being associated with such a parade. Neville, his mind running in similar patterns, disappeared into his quarters across the corridor from mine, directly next to the Map Room. By the time I reached the basement slave-quarters, Andrew and James were far ahead of me, beyond sight. However, I knew the way to the pantry as well as Andrew did. Unlike some lords, I did not rely on my free-servant to do all the supervising of my slaves. It is never a good idea to depend too much on the judgment of one's free-servant; too many men in free-service lack the discipline necessary to make wise decisions. 

When I reached the pantry, I discovered that James was still inside, but Andrew was leaning back against the wall in the dark corridor, looking at the room opposite. I turned to see why, and for a moment I could not understand Andrew's interest. It was just a bare room with a flagstone floor. Then I realized where I was, and my gaze was drawn unwillingly back to Andrew. 

He met my eyes with a hard stare but said nothing. At that moment, James mercifully reappeared, saying, "I am embarrassed to confess that I have never been down here before – this, despite the fact that I now have two slave-servants. I have been allowing my free-servant to issue their orders. My family didn't own any slaves in Lone Bay Beach, and I still don't know how to act around people of that rank." 

"I'm sure that Lord Carle would be pleased to offer you advice on the matter," said Andrew coolly. "Well, I must go. Are you two headed to the council quarters?" 

"Yes, but I would be glad to walk back with you to your chamber first," said James. 

"I'm visiting the court clerk, which is on your way; I would be pleased to have your company. Would you care to join us, Lord Carle?" 

"Certainly," I said, grimly determined to keep James in sight, no matter what it cost me. A moment later, I witnessed one of Andrew's vanishing routines as he slipped round the corner. 

As James and I turned to catch up with him, a voice said, "Oh, Andrew, have you seen my master? I was told that he is down here somewhere." 

"He is right here," I said coldly, all my wrath now safely focussed on someone whom I could rebuke. "What is it that you want, Curtis?" 

Curtis looked uneasy, as well he might, and cast a glance at James and Andrew. I said to them, "I will catch up with you shortly." 

Once the two men were out of earshot, my free-servant said, "A message arrived from the Chara, Lord Carle. He wishes to see you at once." 

"Thank you, Curtis. Now, would you care to explain why you are addressing the Koretian Ambassador as though he were still your fellow free-servant?" 

Curtis licked his lips nervously. "He asked me to do so when we were in private, Lord Carle. I thought that I ought to follow his wishes." 

It seemed that Andrew was not content with destroying the master-servant relationship between himself and his own masters; now he was destroying the discipline of every servant who came into his reach. "Very well," I said. "But next time I would prefer that you consult with me on such matters, rather than use your own judgment." 

Curtis bowed in response, and I made my way back to the corridor just in time to see James and Andrew disappear into the court clerk's quarters. I stood undecided for a moment, then recalled where my primary duty lay and made my way to the Chara's quarters. 

"High Lord." This formal greeting awaited me as I entered the Chara's sitting chamber. He remained seated, wearing an expression that was no more comforting than his words. 

"You wished to see me, Chara," I said in formal response. 

The Chara watched me make my bow, and then waved me into a chair – this was a good sign, showing that his anger was not directed toward me. He waited until I was seated before saying, "I thought that you would wish to know of a discussion I overheard at the reception. It seems that Lord James was eager to have the Ambassador explain to him the Koretian council's interpretation of the division of powers." 

It took me a moment to gather enough breath to say, "In relation to your negotiations?" 

"Mercifully, no; I will not be forced to bring charges against Lord James. But it was too close to forbidden territory for me to be happy. He is under your care, Lord Carle, but I am asking that he receive discipline from one of us. I do not want this sort of incident to happen again, particularly at an official function, where I have no choice but to take notice." 

I bit back several curses that rose to my lips, not only at James's stupidity, but also at his continuing blindness to the pain he was causing Peter. I said firmly, "I have had no success with Lord James, so I would be deeply grateful if you could spare the time to make clear to him his duties." 

"What little time I have must be now. If you can send him here before the eighth trumpet, I will do what I can." 

I rose, bowed, and said, "As always, you demonstrate a tireless capacity for patience, Chara. I will send him to you at once." 

The Chara nodded. His gaze was already drifting back toward a map of Koretia that was draped over his writing desk. I left him, and headed toward the court clerk's quarters. 

This was a very different place from the council clerk's quarters where I had long ago worked. That had been a large chamber where the young scribes chatted, threw wax balls at each other, and exchanged valuable information on the various documents they were copying out. I had learned as much about the law during my two years as a scribe as I had during my twelve years as a researcher. 

The court scribes, by contrast, worked alone, each in his own closed room. Only the smell of beeswax and ink tickled my memory. I made my way down a passage to the back of the quarters where the clerk's chamber was found, and then paused in front of the door, which was open a crack. 

". . . was many years ago, b-back when I was scarcely more than a scribe," a voice was saying. "I knew little about the division of powers, but I was eager to serve the Chara in any way that I could, so we spent the entire night at it, searching for a way round the problem. The Chara told me that he dared not issue his own proclamation for such a case, so we looked and looked until I discovered an obscure proclamation that provided the solution." 

"I owe you a great deal." Andrew's voice was quiet. "I think that I would have taken my own life rather than become Carle's slave again." 

"So the Chara was willing to tamper with the division of powers in those days?" It was James's eager voice. 

"Oh, yes," said the first voice. "Of course, that was before Andrew returned to K-koretia and left the Chara to Lord Carle's mercy. If the empire falls, it will be your fault, you know." 

"I didn't realize how serious matters had become until I arrived back," said Andrew. "Why else do you think I've been putting off the Jackal for these past few weeks? He sent for me by his private messenger after the first month of our negotiations, recalling me to Koretia. It was as clear to him as it was to me that I was getting nowhere with the Chara." 

"But he allowed you to stay," said the first voice. 

"He trusts me – which is more than can be said for Peter. Well, I suppose that I could not expect to leave Peter with Carle for ten years and return to find our friendship intact. However, some of what James has been telling me gives me ideas for my negotiations." 

"What sort of ideas?" To my relief, James sounded sincerely innocent. For a moment I had been chained down by visions of Andrew recruiting him to work for Koretia. 

"None that I hope I will ever have to use. But we were discussing the division of powers." 

"Yes, and I have another question about that," said James. "All that I know about the division comes from the other lords, and they know only the council side of it. You may be able to tell me, Brian. Is there any way in which the council can bypass the Chara's decisions?" 

"Well," said the first voice slowly, "I can't really say—" 

"Wait." Andrew's instruction was abrupt. 

For once, his sentiments matched mine; I was not going to allow James to stray any further than he had already gone. As it was, I did not wait to allow Andrew to reveal my presence this time, but instead swung the door open, smiling coldly at the men in front of me. 

Their reaction was, for the most part, quite satisfactory. James, seated precariously on a table loaded with documents, rose so quickly that the entire table fell, scattering the sheets everywhere. The court clerk scarcely noticed. He had risen from behind his writing table and was gripping his pen tightly. Only Andrew, already halfway to the doorway, simply took the door from my hand and gazed upon me with no surprise. 

"Good day to you, Lord James . . . Brian . . . Ambassador." I smiled at each in turn and observed two out of the three men writhe. "I am sorry to interrupt. Lord James, I bear a summons from the Chara. He wishes to see you in his quarters." 

James hesitated, and then said, "We have the council meeting in a short while, Lord Carle." 

"You are excused from the council this afternoon. The Chara has not sent his request, but his command." 

James knelt down to gather up some of the documents; then, at my look, he murmured his apology to the court clerk and picked his way through the documents in order to reach the door. I reserved one last smile for the uneasy clerk – my smiles seemed to have lost all their effect on Andrew – and then followed James back into the passageway between the scribes' rooms. 

I waited until we were out of earshot of the others before saying, "You may leave your sword with me." 

James stopped and looked at me uncertainly. "Why is that?" 

"Because, Lord James, the Chara prefers that those who are summoned to his judgment arrive unarmed." 

The look of shock on James's face was great enough that I felt I could afford to soften the blow. I said quietly, "It is an unofficial audience only; the Chara is kind enough to address this matter before it comes to his official attention. But I think that you would do well to listen carefully to what he has to say. I have no wish to see any of my lords receive the Chara's vengeance – and you in particular may be of great assistance to Emor in the future if you are willing to learn from this experience." 

"Yes, Lord Carle." James's face was white. For once, he did not argue with me. 

"Go, then. He is waiting for you." 

James unclipped his sheathed sword, handed it to me, and without a word turned and left the clerk's quarters. Once again I felt great respect for the young lord's courage. I only hoped that his courage would take him in the right direction. 

o—o—o

"Well?" I said late that evening. 

"Well." Peter knelt by his hearth, trying without success to revive a dying fire. He stopped for a moment, rubbed his eyes, and then continued poking the fire with his iron. "Well, I had to issue him another direct command." 

I sighed, stood up, and went over to the writing table, where I found some scrap pieces of paper to burn. As I handed these to Peter, I sat down beside him on the floor. "I do not remember any other occasion on which one of my lords refused to accept your unofficial judgment." 

"There were three cases during Dean's High Lordship," said Peter, crumbling the paper in his hand. "In the first case, the lord was right and I was wrong, and I ended up admitting my fault. In the second case, I was right but the lord was too stubborn to admit it. Fortunately, he resigned from the council before matters worsened. In the third case . . ." Peter abandoned the iron and began poking the paper under the fire-bed with his bare hands. "In the third case, I was wrong, but I did not realize this until after the lord had been executed." He pulled his hand back with a jerk, sucked one of his fingers for a minute, and then continued pushing the paper in. 

I said, "The Chara is human; therefore he makes mistakes. But I do not think you are mistaken here. The line between the Chara and his council is clearly drawn in the law." 

"Clear enough to the average man; James seems to have blinded himself to the obvious. What worries me most is that he is not only bringing harm to himself, he is bringing harm to the council. Have you paid attention to the conversations taking place between your junior lords?" 

"I fear not, Chara. Do you know of information that I do not?" 

"Only because James volunteered it himself. You remember that you were telling me a couple of weeks ago that James seems to have taken over Matthew's old role as leader of the junior lords. Well, it appears that James has also been successful in persuading several of the other junior lords to adopt his viewpoint on this matter – so many of them that it is possible that, within a few months, there could be enough votes supporting James's policies to overrule even your High Lord's Privilege. And if that happens, you know what that will mean." 

It was a moment before I found the strength to say, "It has been seven hundred years since that happened, Chara." 

"There has never ceased to be the danger that it would occur again." Peter gave up on the fire and wiped his sooty hands against his peasant-brown tunic. Unlike James, Peter never wore fine clothes outside of official functions; his inconspicuous tunic enabled him to slip quietly around the palace, unnoticed by all but those he worked with regularly. It eased his burden somewhat to know that, even outside his quarters, he did not always have to be the Chara. 

"I will have enough trouble defeating Koretia if we go to war," said Peter. "I cannot afford to be merciful toward the council lords if it looks as though I will have to go to war with them as well in order to protect my rights. I warn you, Carle, if it reaches that point, I will strip the council of its remaining powers rather than see this land dissolve into civil war." 

At this inopportune moment, the sleeping-chamber door opened and Ursula appeared. She was fully dressed this time, but looked at us with as much tentativeness as though she were in her bed-clothes. 

"I couldn't sleep," she said. "I was wondering whether I might join you." 

"I'm afraid not." Peter's voice was low. 

"I wouldn't talk; I would just listen." 

"Lady Ursula, we are speaking on official matters," Peter said firmly. 

"Oh." Ursula stepped backwards. I smiled at her reassuringly, and she gave me a slight smile in return before closing the door. 

Peter stood up, stretched, and then rested his forehead upon his fingertips. "What were we talking about?" 

"Your direct command to James. May I know what it was?" I had no wish to return to the subject that had caused Peter to make his terrible threat. 

"It is important that you know; I am depending on you to help him keep my orders. I commanded him not to discuss the division of powers with anyone, either in public or private." 

I had stood when Peter did. Now I was silent a while before saying, "That is a very broad command, Chara." 

"A dangerously broad one, I know; it will be hard for James to keep. But it was either that or have you bring the council's discipline upon him." He reached out to take hold of the back of a chair, and I saw his hand shake as he did so. "This all comes at the wrong moment, Carle. If James had arrived at this palace ten years ago, I would have had the energy and the time to sort his problems out. But as it is—" Peter suddenly gripped the chair back hard, and I saw him sway. 

"Chara, listen to me." I had come to tell him of what I had heard Andrew say that day, but I could now see that the last thing Peter needed to know was that the Jackal was on the point of withdrawing his peace oath. "Please take my advice on this one matter: Go to bed. Go join your wife, have a restful night of sleep, and you will be in condition to tackle your work in the morning." 

"Perhaps you are right." Peter gave a faint smile. "I feel as though I could sleep forever. Are you headed to bed now?" 

"Only a madman would fail to go to bed at this hour," I said firmly, and left Peter walking toward his sleeping chamber. 

Well, I must have been a madman. I headed for James's quarters. 

It took me time to arrive there; the quarters of the junior lords are located in the back of the palace, behind the Court of Judgment. By the time I reached there, the corridors were deserted but for an occasional guard yawning at his post. 

Light shone from under James's door, though. I knocked softly, and after a moment James opened the door. 

He looked in a worse state than the Chara, and I was not surprised. In my most courageous moments, I had never tried to reject the words of the Chara in judgment, and I was thirty years older than Peter. For someone as young and inexperienced as James to defy the Chara in such a way was beyond belief. 

I took in James's appearance as he silently bowed and then stood aside to let me in. He was as white as he had been when I saw him last, but now his hair was damp with sweat, and there was a dazed look to his eyes. I had disciplined enough slaves over the years to know when the point has been reached where further beating will only cause the slave to slip into unconsciousness, so I said gently, "May I sit down, Lord James?" 

He nodded, still silent, and perched himself on a footstool. His furniture, like his clothes, looked as though it had been bought for show rather than comfort. It contrasted starkly with the tunic he was wearing: a dull green tunic, the one he had worn on our first meeting. It was as clear an indication as any of the defeat he had just undergone. 

I said quietly, "You know why I am here. I have not come to rebuke you; I am sure that you have undergone enough of that today. I simply wish to understand why you did not accept the Chara's judgment." 

"Because he is wrong." James's reply came in a whisper. His head was bowed. 

In contrast to Peter's hearth, a large fire was blazing in James's hearth. The flame-light danced off of James's face, painting it in warm and lively colors, but underneath those colors was the face of a man who was little more than a boy. 

"Lord James, the Chara has held his office for twenty years." I kept my voice gentle. "Before that, he read the law books day and night for ten years. You have been a council lord for a little over two months. Can you not give the Chara the benefit of the doubt until you have more experience?" 

James looked up at me then. From his expression, I saw that I had been wrong about his appearance denoting defeat. He was defeated only in the sense of a soldier who finds himself taken prisoner and must discover a way to break his bonds. "This is the time when the issue arises," he said huskily. "We are about to go to war because of how the Chara interprets the division of powers. I cannot wait another five years. Emor may no longer exist then." 

"You are right that this is an important matter, but it is a court matter. The Chara is disputing with the Jackal over a court case. It is not the council's job to become involved." 

"That is what the dispute is about, Lord Carle; it is about whether the Koretian council has the right to overrule the court. And if the Koretian council has involved itself in this issue, then the Emorian council must do so as well." 

I sat there for a while, thinking how the next best thing to bed would be a brief discussion with James. But there was no hope for it if I were to truly help the young man. "Lord James, which came first, the council or the Chara?" 

James looked at me, puzzled. "Both. That is, the council lords were called Charas, before the giving of the law." 

"Then what happened?" 

His forehead creased with puzzlement at my decision to hold a history lesson in the middle of the night. He answered my question, however, saying, "One of the council lords proved so wise in his work that the other lords chose to give over to him entirely the power of High Judge. He was the first true Chara, and that was when the law was given. He passed on the power to his son, who passed it on to his son, and so the Chara and the council were eventually divided." 

"And then?" I was beginning to feel as though I had returned to my days as a tutor. 

"And then . . . Then the council lords grew afraid as the first century drew to a close, because the Chara's judgments were allowing him to gather new powers that he hadn't had before. So they tried to strip the Chara of his power to judge, and the Chara declared war against them." 

"How long did this war last?" 

James bit his lip. "I'm not sure. I didn't receive any formal schooling in ancient history." 

"The war lasted two hundred years." 

"That long?" James raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

"There were occasional periods of peace, but the war continued until the matter had been settled. By that time, Emor – what is now Southern Emor – was a wasteland. Barely anyone was left alive in the land, and nearly all of its beasts and plants had been destroyed in the fighting. The forests never grew back." 

James considered this. I could see that he was still puzzled by the direction of the conversation. I said, "What was the peace settlement between the Chara and the council?" 

"The Chara kept his powers, and he stripped the council of nearly all of its rights – most importantly, he took over the Emorian army, which later formed the core of the imperial armies. But the Chara allowed the council lords to remain his advisors and to enforce the laws he interpreted. That is when the second division of powers between the council and the Chara was defined and the first law books were written." 

"Now, Lord James . . ." James leaned forward, both to hear better my soft voice and because he sensed I was reaching my climax. "What do you think would happen if the Chara were to believe that the council was once again trying to strip him of his powers?" 

James's head jerked up; his mouth opened to silence. Then he said in a strangled voice, "He couldn't." 

"He could. He would. You say that you are trying to prevent war, but in fact you are risking one of two things: either a far more bloody war or the death of the council." 

I could see James struggling to balance what I had just said with what he had said before. It was a longer struggle than I would have liked. I cursed myself inwardly for not answering his question the previous month about the reason for the Chara's resistance to encroachments on his power. At the time, I had let weariness convince me that it would be better to let my student search out the answer himself. I had not taken into account James's ambitiousness, and how his own growing power would color his views on such matters. 

James stood up suddenly and went over to stand by a table nearby. Stacked on it, in several dozen neat piles, were his law books: as many books, it appeared, as were in the Chara's quarters or my own. He rested his hand lightly on a single slim volume that was lying apart from the rest, and after a long while he said, "The law books were written after the peace settlement, but the law-structure appeared at the time of the giving of the law. If no law-structure existed, the Chara would have no right to judge, and the law-structure clearly says that it is the council's duty to prevent the Chara from straying from the law. If the council fails to help the Chara, and he goes against his duties, then the law will be taken from the people, and neither the Chara nor the council nor anyone else will have the capacity to hand down judgments. I cannot allow that to happen." 

His voice remained hoarse, yet there was a firmness about it that I had missed before. This was no boy; this was no defeated soldier. This was a council lord determined to have his way, even if it meant his death. Aside from Andrew, I did not know when I had met an enemy I respected more. 

I kept my voice low, but allowed a corresponding firmness to enter into it, "Do you remember the Chara asking you why you did not go into court work?" 

"Yes, Lord Carle." He looked over at me enquiringly. 

"I think that you would be a fine town judge or palace court official. There is no question in my mind that you could even become the city judge if you wished. However much I may disagree with you in your interpretation of the law, I can see that you have a talent for dealing with matters of judgment." 

"Why are you telling me this, Lord Carle?" James's voice had grown cool. This time he could see the direction of the conversation. 

"Because I am offering you two choices, Lord James. I cannot afford to take the chance that you will decide to disobey the Chara and cause ruin to the council before you are stopped. Either you give me your oath as a free-man that you will obey the orders of the Chara, or I accept your resignation tomorrow as a council lord . . . and will also do my best to find you a court job." 

"And if I accept neither choice, High Lord?" James's chin was raised, and his eyes met mine evenly. 

"Then I will do what the Chara has already contemplated having me do: I will have you summoned on the charge of misusing your powers as a lord. You will be tried by the council judge, Lord Neville. If he finds you guilty and shows you no mercy, you will be placed under my custody and be required to do as I instruct you." 

James's hand slid off of the law book. "No," he whispered. 

"The council is under my care, Lord James. I take my duties as its master as seriously as you take yours." 

He curled his hands into fists and brought them up against his mouth, bowing his head to meet them. He stood that way for so long that I began to expect the dawn colors to appear through his window. Finally he said quietly, "You have me under your power, Lord Carle, and I am in no position to negotiate. But I cannot accept either of your two choices, so I beg you to allow me a variation on the first. I will swear to you, if you like, that I will obey the Chara's orders not to speak of this matter to anyone in public. I will even promise not to speak to any of the other lords about it, in public or in private. But I cannot promise not to do my own private investigation. If I find that I am wrong, then the matter will be settled. If I find that I am right . . . If I am right, then I will tell the Chara and face his wrath, and you will not be bothered with me again. Can you accept this?" 

His weary tone told me that he did not expect me to accept this. If he had consulted Andrew, though, he would have known what my answer would be. 

"I have never believed that it was right for a master to interfere in the private thoughts of his servants, Lord James," I said. "If you can conduct your investigation in such a manner that it does not reach the attention of either the Chara or me, then you are free to do as you wish. As for the rest, I require your oath." 

James stared at me wide-eyed for a moment before he went over to the side of the room where I had placed his sword while he was seeing the Chara. He pulled the sword from its sheath, placed his left palm on the flat of the blade, and gave his oath. Then he said, in a surprising concession to his human weaknesses, "I'm tired." 

"As am I." I rose on unsteady feet, adding, "Sleep well, Lord James. I hope that we never need to continue this conversation again."


	10. Justification | 2

**CHAPTER TWO**  
**986 a.g.l.**  


> _Students sometimes wonder whether the Justification is really necessary. It is clear from the Description, they say, why a law exists. Such a view ignores the obtuseness of human nature, in which what is obvious must usually be stated in words of great clarity in order to be understood. This is the reason that the Chara states his direct commands in so blunt a manner; it is also the reason that the most common plea in trials is "guilty, but without clear understanding." This fact should certainly be appreciated by students who ask their tutors important questions, but do not listen fully to the answers._

  
o—o—o

"If we invade Koretia, we will lose the war." 

This flat statement came from the subcommander of the Emorian army, who was glaring at Peter the following morning from under bushy eyebrows and a thick beard. Rudolph was a man of my own age, prone to disagree with anyone younger than himself and apt to hold opinions he refused to change, even when it became apparent that the opinions were wrong. This is what had cost him victory in Arpesh, but Peter had decided to keep him on as his subcommander for the inarguable reason that Rudolph's opinions were almost always right. 

Now, however, it was Peter who was refusing to change his opinion. "You did not say this when I came to you ten years ago." 

"Ten years ago we had not lost a quarter of our forces in Arpesh. Ten years ago the Jackal did not have the most powerful army in the Three Lands." 

"His army is one-third the size of ours." Peter was on his feet, his fists on his hips, his winter cloak flapping against the November wind that was penetrating the chief subcommander's tent. 

"We would be fighting in another man's land, against a commander who has the best military mind of any ruler in the Three Lands – I say this frankly, Chara. You saw how he managed to revive the Koretian rebellion at a time when we were sure it had died out." 

"The Jackal very nearly lost that rebellion," Peter replied. "He had numerous chances to kill me during my visit there, and he did not touch me because he was convinced that we could come to a peace settlement. As it happened, he was right, but this eagerness to settle matters with words rather than blades will cost him if it comes to war." 

"By the Sword of Vengeance, Chara, look at your own spies' reports!" The subcommander flung several sheets across the table toward Peter. "They have been telling you for months that the Jackal is preparing his army for war. So are we, but not with the rapidity that the Koretians are. The Koretians are ready to take up their swords at any time." 

"Carle?" Peter's voice was soft, but the gaze that he cast in my direction was hard with anger. 

"I am not a high army official, Chara." 

"Don't try my patience, Carle. I asked you here for a reason. You have been in correspondence with Lord Hollis; do you believe that the Koretians are serious about war?" 

I was standing in the most sheltered part of the tent, watching Peter's cloak flap around his body as though he were a tree unmoved by the wind. I hesitated, but decided that there was no way to avoid giving him a straight answer. "The High Lord is a subtle and courageous man, Chara, so it is hard to judge the temper of the people from him. However, I would certainly say that the Koretian council is prepared to support the Jackal in his war. You will find no weakness there." 

"Nor in the army," said the subcommander. "I myself trained the Jackal's subcommander and his captains. They know everything that we know about fighting." 

"They do not know our military strength," said Peter. "The Jackal's thieves have not been able to penetrate our defenses that well; I am convinced of this from the letters I have been receiving from Subcommander Brendon. We have been able to guard our work in these headquarters too well, and they will not be able to guess at our strategies. That is my final word on the subject." 

"They will not need to know our strategies, Chara," countered Rudolph stubbornly. "They have strategies of their own that will defeat us." 

"Subcommander," said Peter softly, "it is your job to win the war. It is mine to decide whether we fight the war. If you begin to intrude onto my territory, I will find myself another subcommander who has less difficulty in obeying orders. Have I made myself clear?" 

Rudolph continued to glare at Peter, but he said simply, "You are the Chara. It is your job to master this land." 

"Good," said Peter. "These days I am beginning to wonder whether anyone remembers that. I seem to be surrounded on all sides by rebels and traitors. Please do not make it necessary for me to designate you in the latter category." And without a word, he turned and pushed his way past the tent flap. 

I gave Rudolph one fleeting, sympathetic glance, and then hurried after the Chara. I was nearly stopped by one of the many guards Peter had posted in the army headquarters months before, when it became apparent that nothing else would keep the Jackal from continuing to send his spies freely into the high officials' quarters. Fortunately, the guard recognized me and waved me past to where the Chara stood waiting for me. 

"It is insufferable that I should have to put up with arguments from that man after what happened in Arpesh," said Peter after we had moved out of earshot of the guard. "For him to argue that we should not attack because we lost a quarter of our forces two years ago— How does he think that we lost them, except through his refusal to attack when necessary? By my Sword, I know that I am called the Chara of Great Mercy, but Rudolph outdoes even me. The next thing you know, he will be inviting all of the Jackal's thieves to come and take down notes on our invasion strategy in order to prevent us from going to war." 

"Treachery has won wars before this, but I doubt that you need worry about Rudolph," I said. "And if you think that he is incompetent, you should find yourself a new subcommander. Otherwise, you should listen to what he says." 

Peter halted and stared with blazing eyes at me. "I did not ask your opinion, Carle, and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from giving it to me unasked. Please confine yourself to advising me on council matters, as you have always done in the past. By the wisdom of the Charas, how many times am I going to have to say that this month? You are as bad as your junior-most lord." 

I bowed but said nothing; I could not think of any apology that would be truthful enough to satisfy the Chara. For a moment more, his gaze bit into me. Then he turned without a word and strode toward the north entrance to the palace. 

I did not follow immediately. A long time had passed since I had last visited the army headquarters, but surprisingly, I felt as though I had been away for only a short time. I could almost trace in my mind the path I took on the last occasion I was summoned to my captain's tent. Now, without thinking why, I turned away from the palace and traced that path back to the spot I remembered. 

The tent was no longer there. Many years had passed, and the army tents had shifted a dozen times or more when the officials were called out to war. I stood a while, listening to the clang of swords, the shout of orders, the beat of horses' hooves, and the call of trumpets. Finally I turned away, and as I did so, I saw out of the corner of my eye a blur of movement. 

I do not know what old instinct kept me turning away as though I had not seen the movement. Nor do I know what told me so surely what I had seen. But I took care to walk out of sight. Then I waited the proper amount of time in order to be certain that I was no longer being watched and that, when I returned to the movement, it would be doing something interesting. I had received good training in the Chara's army. 

I made my way to one of the officials' tents. Judging that there was no way to spy through the thick folds of cloth, I simply raised the flap to see the figure I had witnessed. 

It was Andrew; this much I had guessed. Nor did it surprise me that he was standing next to a table in the tent, staring intently at a piece of paper. 

He looked up at me blandly. It is the first lesson they teach you as a spy, never to look as though you have been doing anything wrong if you are caught. He carefully placed the document back onto the table, where it was immediately lost in the untidy pile. 

"Well, Ambassador," I said, "you seem to be making good use of your training as a thief for the Jackal." 

He was silent a moment before saying, "I make good use of all the training I have received over the years, Lord Carle – even the training I received from you." 

"I doubt that my training would be of much use to you in this situation. I do not train my slaves in espionage." 

Andrew's voice was very quiet as he said, "You ought not to make such accusations without proof, High Lord." 

"Proof?" I gave him a cold smile. "By the Chara's Sword, Ambassador, you are a bold one. I find you looking through the papers of an army official, and you demand proof. It seems to me that you will need to provide witnesses on your own behalf to find a way out of this incident." 

Andrew's gaze shifted slightly. "My witness is arriving at this moment. Do step to one side, Lord Carle. You are blocking his entrance." 

Ordinarily, I would not have fallen for such an obvious trick, but a shadow had fallen over me. I whirled round. As Andrew had predicted, I found myself blocking the path of a very large captain. He stared down at me with some astonishment for a moment, with a slight glitter to his eyes that told me he was not used to having uninvited guests in his tent. Then he glanced beyond me to Andrew. "A friend of yours?" 

"This is Lord Carle," said Andrew, not answering the captain's question. "Lord Carle, may I present Captain Gladius." 

"Ah!" The captain's expression cleared immediately. "Our High Lord. I have seen you in passing but had not actually met you." He bowed to me and then offered a sketchy version of the free-man's greeting, as befitted his rank. "Come in, come in – Andrew and I are nearly finished here. I thought that you were still outside, soaking in the sun." This last remark was addressed to Andrew. 

"It grew a bit chilly in the wind. I tried to find that paper you spoke about, but it was like attempting to locate a blade of grass in a large field." 

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry about that." The captain moved past me as though he had forgotten my existence, and began shuffling through the documents on the table. "The subcommander would hand me over to the Chara's torturers if he saw this – a perfect place for the Jackal's thieves to be at work." 

"That was Lord Carle's view on the matter," Andrew said serenely. "He thought I was spying on you." 

The captain looked back at me, and something about my expression caused him to shout with laughter. "Well, I wouldn't put it past him," he said to me in an apparent attempt to comfort a fool. "The last time Andrew and I met, I poured out all my thoughts to him about why the Koretians were incapable of ruling themselves. He was wearing an Emorian tunic at the time. A few days later, I discovered that he was the Jackal's blood brother. I felt like a great dolt. —Here's the name I was looking for. This is the priest who tended my wounds after the Battle of Valouse. I've never known whether any message I sent would reach him, but if you could trouble yourself to give him my thanks in person—" 

"Consider it done," said Andrew, folding the sheet and tucking it into the pocket inside his cloak. "Well, I must go. It was good seeing you again after all these years." 

I preceded Andrew outside, saying coolly as he emerged, "Would you care for an escort back to the palace, Ambassador? With your Koretian appearance, you might have trouble with the guards." 

Andrew reached into his cloak once more, and this time his hand emerged holding a porphyry carving of the royal emblem. It was an object I had seen only once over the years, for the Chara does not hand it out lightly: it was the royal badge, giving the bearer free access to any place in the empire, and guaranteeing the Chara's vengeance if any harm should befall him. 

Andrew managed to keep all hint of irony out of his voice as he said, "I would appreciate your escort nonetheless, Lord Carle. These headquarters are a maze, and I might find myself wandering into the wrong places." 

My mind was so filled with a rehearsal of the speech I planned to give Peter when I saw him next that we were halfway to the palace entrance before I gathered my thoughts together and said to Andrew, "You seem to have many friends on both sides of the border. It must make it difficult for you to retain your land loyalty." 

"I have no land loyalty, Lord Carle," Andrew replied calmly. "I thought I made that clear two months ago. My only loyalty is to the Unknowable God. At the moment, he bids me work for the Jackal." 

"And if he suddenly bid you work for the Chara, you would return to Emor?" 

"Certainly." We had reached the heavily guarded gate to the inner palace wall. Andrew nodded to the guards, who saluted him as though they were old friends. 

"You will forgive me for saying that most people would not use the word 'loyalty' to describe that type of action." 

"Lord Carle, we all have loyalties that come in conflict with lesser loyalties. If the Chara were to stray from the law, I have no doubt that you would choose the higher loyalty." 

I considered this for a minute as we began to make our way up the great marble stairway, slippery from the early-morning mist. "So you wish to compare your god to the law. Tell me, Ambassador, how do you receive your commands from the god? Does he whisper in your ear?" 

"I have heard him speak in human tongue on occasion, but I do not usually receive his instructions in that way. You ought to find my method of obeying the god familiar, Lord Carle. I follow my wits and my conscience, and I depend on my conscience to pull me back if I go too far astray from the god's wishes." 

I paused a moment on the steps, less to be dramatic than to recover my breath; Andrew was as quick in his movements now as he had been as a child. "I see. Yes, I do find your method familiar, Ambassador – in law-breakers. It is law-breakers who depend on their consciences without seeking an outside, objective guide such as the law." I began climbing once more. 

"The god is outside me as well as inside, Lord Carle, but the outside witness is to be found in the Koretian religious rites. I would be glad to explain how those rites guide me if you wish to understand." 

"I know all about Koretian rites. Your religion consists of slaughtering animals and other such bloody ceremonies. It really does not surprise me that you would use that as your guide to treachery; I only wonder how far you are prepared to go. If your god calls upon you to betray and murder over and over, will you do it? Can you actually trust a master who asks that of you?" 

We had reached the northern palace entrance. Andrew said nothing until we were beyond the guards and standing in the empty corridor leading back toward the Court of Judgment. Then he stopped and said softly, "During the time I was visiting Arpesh, I met an old man. He was a very gentle man who made his living by creating figures out of straw; you may know of that Arpeshian custom. His figures were like creatures that could come alive at any moment. I had never seen objects of such beauty. This same man I saw murdered in cold blood right after he finished making one such figure. I remember thinking to myself, in the moment of the killing, that if the god could allow such a thing to happen, then either he must be a villain greater than any that has walked this earth, or else he must be far wiser than we are and find a way to bring good even out of murder and betrayal. Either way, I decided, my loyalty must be absolute. Either I must dedicate myself to following this god, or I must dedicate myself to destroying him. And so I made my choice." 

"You have answered my second question, Ambassador." It was hard for me to speak, so great was the contempt in my heart. "You did not answer my first question. Even if you trust this god who uses treachery and law-breaking as his tools, are you willing to stain your own hands bloody for his sake?" 

Andrew's voice was very soft when he replied. "I told you that I made my choice, Lord Carle. Why else would I have killed the old man?" And he turned and walked down the corridor, his step as sure as before. 

o—o—o

"I do _not_ give the royal badge out indiscreetly!" Peter was pacing up and down the length of his sitting-chamber floor. "I gave the badge into Andrew's hands this morning at the first trumpet, and he returned it to me during noonday. How much harm do you think he could accomplish in that amount of time? It was a choice between giving him the badge or accompanying him personally on his visit to his friend the captain, and I have no time for that sort of thing." 

I watched as Peter's cloak swept past the single oil-lamp lighting the room, nearly extinguishing it in the process. Midnight's trumpets had sounded, but Peter still had not found the time to change out of his formal court clothes. 

I said mildly, "I am sure that you limited Lord Andrew's time with the badge in a most sage manner, Chara. What I question is whether you ought to have handed the badge over to a foreign ambassador." 

"So what are you saying?" Peter stopped long enough to fold his arms and glare at me. "Are you saying that Andrew tricked me into giving him the badge in order that he might spy on the army?" 

"Certainly not, Chara." I would not make such a suggestion because it would do no good. "I am simply pointing out that you placed Lord Andrew in a difficult situation. If he had unwittingly stumbled across military information during his visit – it is easy for that sort of thing to happen – then he might have felt obliged to report it to the Jackal. It is not fair to place temptation in his path in that manner." 

The hard lines of anger in Peter's face softened, leaving him simply looking annoyed. "Curse you, Carle – why must you forever be right? Can't you allow your student to triumph over you just once?" He gave a hint of a smile as he pulled off his cloak, tossing it onto the reclining couch. "I suppose it is something of a relief for me to have to follow someone else's orders for once. I'm tired of spending my evenings either fighting about the Koretian courts with Andrew or waging great battles with James. Have you spoken to James since I saw you last?" 

I hesitated, and then decided that Peter did not need to be burdened with my unhappy encounter the night before. "I allowed him to speak in the council today. I thought that it would be proper to show him my trust." 

"And?" 

"He did not bring up the subject of the division of powers, although he had several opportunities to do so. Instead, he spent the time vigorously opposing my other policies. He has apparently decided that the only way in which to be free of your command is to be free of me. He has returned to his old goal of ousting me from power." 

"What a fool he is. I am the one who issued the command, and I will still be here if you leave the council. What will you do?" 

"Nothing. This sort of episode happens periodically in the council, and it would be unwise for me to use my power as High Lord against Lord James simply because I disapprove of his views. He is at least a fair fighter, and he is working toward my ruin in a most open and courteous manner. I am luckier with him than I have been with most of my rivals over the years." 

"Such as me?" Peter gave a one-sided smile as he pulled off his pendant and placed it on the writing-table, then began unclipping his sword. 

"You are hardly my rival, Chara." 

"Don't act so demure, Carle. You and I have had many fights about the law over the years, in both private and public. I consider it a tribute to your strength of character that you have been willing to face the wrath of the Chara without allowing it to affect our friendship. And see, even when you come here to offer me good advice about Andrew, all that I do is rail at you. I ought to have taken your advice and gone straight to bed last night." 

"You didn't?" I tried to see Peter's face, but he was in the shadowy portion of the room, changing from his silver tunic into his brown one. 

"I gave in to the demands of duty and went over the invasion plans I was going to discuss with Rudolph – not that we even got to the point of considering those this morning. But in any case, I am having a great deal of trouble falling asleep these days." 

My eye travelled over to the sleeping-chamber door, which remained closed tonight, though I could see lamplight through the cracks. I had not forgotten my promise to Ursula two months before; this was my first opportunity to fulfill it. "Is that why I saw the palace physician at your door earlier this evening?" 

Peter raised one eyebrow at me as he came over to join me beside the small fire. "That is a personal question to ask, Carle." 

"It is an official one as well, Chara. The council has a right to know the state of your health." 

"I promise you, if I ever become seriously ill, you are the first person I will call. I am not going to be like my father and hide a life-threatening illness for months." Peter leaned toward the fire, placing his hands above the red-black embers. "Perhaps you ought to know in any case. I did not ask the physician here to discuss me, but to examine Ursula." 

"Is the Consort ill, Chara?" 

"No. I wanted the physician's advice as to whether Ursula and I would ever be able to have children." 

I looked over at Peter. His tunic-flap held a flash of fire where the emblem brooch was swallowing the flames before it. "That is a serious matter, Chara." 

"A very serious matter. You have met my cousin Seymour; you know as well as I do that he has not received the sort of education a Chara needs in order to hand down judgments. I showed great family loyalty even in passing on to the council his recent letter. I'm sure you took note of the fact that I did not support his request. This land would be in a terrible state if he were to acquire the throne, yet if the council refuses ever to confirm him, there will likely be war after my death. The future of the empire depends on my begetting an heir." 

"Was the physician able to offer you any hope?" 

"A great deal of hope, but no promises. He pointed out that my parents had been married for twelve years before I was born. And of course I know that I am capable of having children." 

This was the first reference he had made to the subject for many years. I thought it best not to acknowledge his remark. "And what of Lady Ursula?" 

"That is the question, of course." Peter leaned forward further, and the hair above his eyes cast a shadow over his face; even so, I could see the tightness of his mouth. He said quietly, "Ursula has conceived and miscarried several times. I didn't mention this to you, Carle, for I felt that it was a matter which ought to remain private between Ursula and me. But I think that I have been unfair to you in not raising this subject before. I know that you used the High Lord's Privilege two years ago to overrule the council's demand that I divorce Ursula, and Andrew tells me that you quashed the issue when it was raised again last month. I also know how much you dislike using your powers against the council in such a manner." 

"Such a resolution will not be passed while I am High Lord," I said firmly. "And many on the council share my view, or else I would not have been able to hold my Privilege in place after the second vote. You are much loved by your subjects, Chara; few men want to add to your burden by destroying your marriage." 

"It is a great burden for Ursula as well, and I'm not available to help her these days. She wanted to talk earlier, but you were coming by, and I needed to ask you about James. And now I must rush off to the Map Room and do more work. I tried to warn her when we first met what life would be like for her as the Chara's Consort, but I don't think she has ever fully understood my duties. You saw how I had to rebuke her last night." 

The casual regret in Peter's voice offered witness of how many times this had happened, and I felt a tinge of sympathy for Ursula. "Is the Consort still awake, Chara?" 

"I believe so. She is having trouble sleeping as well." 

"Then may I suggest that I keep her company for a little while after you leave, and perhaps on an occasional evening when you are busy? I am a poor substitute for her own husband, I know, but perhaps it will ease her loneliness at this time." 

"That is kind of you," said Peter with vague surprise. "In that case, I will leave now, so that both of us can return to our beds sooner. Really, Carle, you are the best of friends. You put up with my temper, you offer me sound advice, and now you entertain my wife rather than going to a well-deserved rest. How can I ever repay you for all that you've done for me over the years?" 

"By getting a full night's sleep," I said sternly. 

Peter laughed. "Perhaps I will even make that sacrifice." He swept up his cloak in preparation for entering the icy corridor, and said, "My only advice to you is not to get her on the subject of Subcommander Brendon. You will be here all night if she starts talking about him." He gave me a grin – his old, boyish grin – and left the quarters. 

o—o—o

"Andrew told me that he saw you in the army headquarters today," said Ursula. 

"Oh?" I responded in what I hoped was a polite, indifferent manner. 

Ursula laughed. "He said that you thought he was a spy." 

I took time to reflect, while preparing a truthful yet tactful reply, that there could be no easier defense against an opponent's charge than to make that charge appear ridiculous. No doubt Andrew was presently composing a particularly humorous account of our meeting for Peter's ears. "I did not actually see your brother well enough to be sure of his identity. All that I saw was a man suddenly ducking out of sight when I turned his way." 

Ursula had been sitting in a chair beside me at the hearth, her restlessness momentarily conquered by the need to keep warm on this chilly night. Now, though, she bounded up from her seat, skipped across the room, and stood facing me motionless in the doorway to the side chamber. I blinked, and in the moment between the time I closed my eyes and opened them again, she disappeared. 

She popped her head back into the doorway, saying, "Like this?" 

I discovered that I was gaping and shut my mouth. "Did your brother teach you that?" 

"The Jackal taught it to us both. It's part of the training he gives to his thieves." She leaned up against the side of the doorway, her foot kicking the post, while I made an effort to imagine Lady Ursula living the life of a spy. "I had the worst time keeping myself from doing that during my first few years here; it had become instinctive. Every time that I met someone in the corridor that I didn't like or didn't expect to see, I'd dodge out of sight. Peter made me stop doing it. He said that it disconcerted the people here. I expect that's what happened when Andrew saw you." 

It was the closest she had ever come to making reference to the fact that was known by all in the palace: that her brother and I were bitter enemies. For some reason, I found it easier to accept her assessment of what had happened than Peter's judgment, perhaps because I suspected her of being less biased in favor of Andrew. I said, "That seems a likely possibility, for in fact I noticed Andrew's presence through a reawakening of my own espionage instincts." 

"Were you a spy, Carle? I never knew." Ursula made her way back to the hearth, which was now almost too hot, since Ursula and I had combined our fire-making skills to persuade the pathetic flames to stretch themselves. 

"Only during the two years before I became a scribe. I had been assigned to the border mountain patrol before that, and I was foolish enough to slip across the Koretian border one day with a fellow patrol guard. We found ourselves in considerable trouble upon our return, but fortunately our only punishment was that we were transferred into the espionage division. I suppose that our foray into Koretia convinced our captain that we had some skills in that respect." 

"I would think that having dark skin would be another test." Ursula leaned forward to toss a twig into the fire, her dark hair falling in front of her pale cheek. 

"There are a goodly number of people of mixed descent and varied skin colors on both sides of the border. The Border Wars were not the first time that Koretians have crossed the mountains, you know." 

Something about the tone of my voice made Ursula look up with a smile. "You don't like Koretia, do you?" 

I hesitated, but Ursula's smile did not waver, so I said bluntly, "No. Koretia's greatest virtues have never been the sort I would wish to honor. But in any case, it is hard to become accustomed to the ways of another land when you have strong loyalties toward your own. These were the years preceding the Border Wars, and already there was much tension between Koretia and Emor . . . and the sudden appearance of the Jackal worried all of us on this side of the border." 

Ursula apparently felt that we had strayed from the topic, for she asked, "Did you enjoy working as a spy?" 

"I did, yes." I was silent a moment, thinking of my recent encounter in the Labyrinth with Andrew. "Of course, it has probably seemed to many people – your husband is an exception – that those years were a wasted part of my life, since I was not working directly with the law at that time. But I found that some of the lessons I learned in the army became helpful to me later." 

"Such as?" 

I linked eyes with her, reading through to her innocent interest. "Such as knowing when someone is lying. Both as a patrol guard and as a spy, I had to assess the truthfulness of other people's stories. During that time, I found that I had the ability to tell when others were lying, by watching their appearance. Eyes can be especially revealing." 

In Ursula's place, I would have broken away my gaze at this point, but the Chara's Consort was probably used to having her thoughts read, if the Jackal was anything like his legend. She simply asked, "What else did you learn?" 

"Bladeplay. Attacks, guards, various ways to slaughter one's opponents – all of which became of immense use to me when I joined the council." 

Ursula laughed as she gathered up her skirted knees between her arms. "You know, you're not at all the way Andrew depicts you," she said. 

I fell silent under the onslaught of this sudden opening of a previously forbidden topic. My muteness caused Ursula to guard her expression. I had never seen her do this before, and for once I could observe her resemblance to Andrew. 

She said quietly, "He only spoke about you once, actually. It was during the week that we stayed at the governor's palace, right after it became the Jackal's palace. I noticed that, whenever he walked into a room, you would walk out, and the same in reverse. So I asked him about it, and he spent one whole night giving me what he called his 'futile warning' against you. He said that you had a way of charming even the people you hurt most, and that he considered himself your only close acquaintance who hadn't fallen prey to that charm." She looked sidelong at me. "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, am I?" 

I forced myself to smile. "You share your brother's penchant for disconcerting moments of candor, Lady Ursula. It is a quality that has always intrigued me about Lord Andrew." 

"Well," she said, "I know that he is wrong about one thing. He said that you only smile when you're hurting someone." 

This was too strong a drink for me, and I fell silent again. Ursula did not notice. She was enclosed in her own thoughts, and finally emerged to say, "It was funny that he would speak about your smile, because it's his smile that makes me the most uneasy. I mean, the fact that he doesn't smile. He smiled the first time that we met, but he hasn't done so the whole time he has visited here, at least not in my presence. I know that it's different when he's alone with Peter. Have you ever seen him smile?" 

"Once," I said, "and that was on an occasion when he did not know I was there." 

Ursula let go of her legs and began swinging her feet, scuffing them along the tiles. "It frightens me," she said. "I know that I ought not to be frightened. I've seen John wear the mask of the god, and I've seen Peter look at me with the face of the Chara, but nothing scares me as much as seeing Andrew watch me with no expression, with nothing to reveal to me his thoughts. He says that he loves me, but sometimes I wonder whether, if I were in trouble, he would come to my rescue, or whether he just says that to be polite toward Peter's wife." 

She looked over at me with a crooked smile. "I can't say any of this to Peter. As far as he is concerned, Andrew can do no wrong. I suppose it's not really fair for me to talk to you about this either, but Peter has told me that you always give an objective answer to him, whether or not you dislike the subject in question." 

She waited trustfully for my reply, but my thoughts were momentarily scattered by a glimpse of her deep, dark eyes. They were the same eyes as Andrew had, yet Andrew used his to hide deception, while Ursula opened hers to all the pain and joy of the world. It was a contrast as great as night and day. 

"I fear that the one subject I am incapable of being objective about is your brother," I said. "I can tell you, though, that it took many years for the Chara to be sure of Lord Andrew's feelings toward him, and it may be that it will take you equally long to learn what your brother feels toward you. Of one thing you can be sure: that he will eventually find a way to show you what he thinks of you. I consider it one of the certainties of life that Lord Andrew always gets whatever he wants."


	11. Justification | 3

**CHAPTER THREE**  
**975 a.g.l.**  


> _Undoubtedly, the most moving passage in the law books is one of the oldest: the description of the burdens of the Chara. Since the Chara is the embodiment of the law, many law-loving Emorians have found that the easiest path to obedience is to contemplate the added burden that they would place upon the Chara by their disobedience to his commands. If every man and woman in this land were required to memorize this Justification, it is possible that the law would no longer be needed, for love of the Chara is just as strong a deterrent to crime as fear of punishment._

  
o—o—o

"Why in the name of the dead Charas _shouldn't_ I issue proclamations affecting the division of powers, Carle?" asked Peter. "It is my right as High Judge, and it serves a purpose." 

I delayed my reply as Peter removed his pendant and placed it in the pocket of his cloak. It was eleven years before my conversation with Ursula, and Peter and I were standing in the anteroom behind the Court of Judgment. A few yards away, the Chara's court clerk leaned over a table, preparing the day's judgments for Peter's signature and seal. 

"You are the Chara, and it is your right to use your power as you wish," I said. "All that I can do is offer my strong recommendation that you not use that power unless Emor is in severe danger. If you continue issuing the sort of proclamation you did today, tampering with the division in order to resolve lesser court cases, I am convinced that you will not only lose the respect of the people, but you will also encourage the council to encroach on your rights." 

Peter had been fiddling with the clasp of his cloak. Now he suddenly went still. "Because the council can dispute my interpretation of the proclamation, you mean. But even Lord Dean would not allow that." 

"Lord Dean will not live forever. Either his successor or his successor's successor will see the potential to gain power from you, and that is too much temptation to place in the council's way." 

I kept my voice low, for the clerk was looking in Peter's direction. Peter stepped over to the table and took up the pen to write his signature. "Carle, it is good of you to issue such a warning to me, and I certainly take your words seriously. It may be that I will follow your advice in the future. —Brian, you have this man marked as innocent." 

"You freed him, Ch-chara," stuttered the clerk. 

"I found him guilty and sentenced him to mercy; there is a great distinction." He looked over at the abashed young man, and his expression softened. "Here," he said and pulled off his ring. 

The clerk stared wide-eyed at the royal emblem ring. "You want m-me to do it, Chara?" 

"It is your right," Peter said, smiling. 

The clerk took the ring gingerly from Peter. As the clerk's hand swung past me, I stepped hastily out of the way so that the ring would not touch me. Holding the seal-ring between two fingers with as much tenderness as though he were grasping a live coal, the clerk pressed down the wax on the judgment documents. 

Peter took back the ring when he was through, saying, "Can you join me for the noonday meal, Carle? I ought really to be working in the Map Room, but I think I must be a lazier man than my father. After a full morning of the court, I need time to relax before my afternoon duties." 

"No one could accuse you of idleness," I replied as we stepped into the corridor behind the court. "I hear that you have been spending your leisure time in the evenings training your new clerk." 

"Not training Brian so much as answering his questions. My last fool of a clerk never allowed his scribes to understand the work that they were doing for him." Peter paused a moment to grab hold of a page who had knocked into his side while trying to run past him in the narrow corridor. The page stared up with fear at the formally dressed Chara. 

"Urgent tidings for the court summoners?" Peter said gravely. 

The page nodded, relieved that his task was taken seriously. "An arrest, Chara. The dungeon-keeper is requesting the summoners' word on a charge." 

"You had best be on your way, then," said Peter, and lightly pushed the boy in the direction that we were going. I began to walk forward, and then looked back to see Peter standing motionless, watching the progress of the running boy. 

"Chara?" 

"I was just thinking," Peter said in a low voice, "that he would have been about that age." 

My back tingled at this oblique reference to the dead child, but in the next moment Peter continued walking forward, saying, "Brian asks the most interesting questions. Last night he wanted to know who gave the first Charas the law. What is the answer, Carle?" 

"I think that, for the answer to that question, you must ask the man who knows which came first, the Chara or the council." 

Peter laughed as we turned into the southern corridor between the court and the Map Room. The noonday rush was about us: several of the men passing us stopped to bow, and Peter acknowledged their submission with a solemn nod, greeting them by name. He hated having special notice taken of him during his private time, but he had not yet disrobed from his formal clothes. 

One man we met did not bow. He said without preliminary, "I've put your meal in the sitting chamber, Chara. I hear that there is a quarrel taking place in the dining hall amongst the free-servants – something about the implications of today's judgment. I'll be back afterwards." 

Peter's eyes flickered, but he said merely, "Thank you. Is there enough food there for Lord Carle as well?" 

Andrew looked my way with the serious and rigid features he always wore, fooling new acquaintances into thinking him a deferential servant. "I have left my meal there, and Lord Carle is welcome to have it – if he does not mind living as a servant would." 

I waited to see whether this remark would at last force Peter to take action. Then, not wishing to cause Peter more public shame than he had already received from his servant, I said, "That will not trouble me." 

Andrew held my eyes a moment longer, and then nodded to the Chara in farewell and continued on to his self-appointed task. 

I waited until we were inside the sitting chamber and the door was safely shut before I turned my angry gaze on Peter. He sighed. "I know. I will talk to him later. But it was not the sort of conversation I wanted to hold in the corridor." 

"And when will you do so, Chara? You promised me a year ago that you would discipline him. I warn you: the next time that this happens, I will go straight to the summoners, and you will not be able to hold me back with promises again." 

Peter said gently, "Insulting a nobleman is a grave crime, and I am grateful to you for not pursuing the charge last year. It is entirely my fault that this has happened. I know that Andrew needs to learn his place. But . . ." 

"But?" I waited with folded arms. 

"But it is difficult when he is both my servant and my . . . Well, I'm still not sure what I am to him, but I consider him my friend. I hate to hurt him." 

"You hurt him more by allowing him to go heedlessly his way like a wild animal. He will cause great harm to someone one of these days." 

"Through insults? Don't be foolish, Carle. It is not that serious a matter." 

I was silent, bound by my decision to keep secret Andrew's old vow. The years since the enthronement had only increased my worry that the vow was not broken but simply set aside. Andrew was too self-willed, too intent on going his own way, to be able to understand that the moment must inevitably come when Peter asserted his power as master and forced Andrew to accept his command. When that time came, I feared that Andrew's willfulness would cause him to reject the Chara and his law. 

I put these thoughts aside and took up the plate that the Chara offered me, joining him at the stone table along the south wall of his chamber. Thinking of the chamber on the other side of the wall, I asked, "When are you going to cut that door through, Chara? You have talked of doing so for many years now." 

"I know, but I still haven't decided what to use the room for. It's too beautiful a chamber to waste on something ordinary. I don't suppose that you would be willing to use it as your study chamber?" 

I laughed, trying to hide the pleasure that this offer gave me. "It is rather far from my quarters. Why not use it for your own studies? You could move your books in there." 

"Oh, but the bookcase makes such an impressive display as people come into my quarters. It gives them that impression that I actually know something about the law. Actually, of course, it is all a matter of guesswork, and the pages could do as good a job as I." 

I paused to take up an apple from my plate, inspected it carefully for worms, and said, "Humility is a fine quality, Chara, but let us not carry it too far. What brings this depressing thought to your mind?" 

"The knowledge that I can guess what the free-servants are quarrelling about right now. It is that servant I freed today, the one who was brought to me on a charge of disobedience to the Chara. He is the fifth case this month. Three of the men who were charged I declined to give evidence against; you know how I hate to give witness in cases where I am the judge. The other two men I sentenced to mercy. And all that this seems to have done is to encourage those under my care to defy my commands." 

"The free-servants are under the council's care, Chara. I ought not to have transferred this man to your judgment." 

"I'm glad that you did. I've never fully understood why my father transferred the free-servants out of the Chara's care, while continuing to acknowledge his duty to judge the slave-servants and palace guests and other such assorted groups. But of course I can depend on you to do your duty as the council judge. I was pleased when Lord Dean chose you for the office." 

"Thank you, Chara. There are those who think that I lean too heavily toward vengeance in my judgments." 

Peter stabbed with a knife at his veal before he pushed it aside and stared down at his plate. "I fear that the time has come for me to lean toward vengeance. There is no other choice if I'm to keep discipline in the palace. I swore to myself last night that the next man to disobey my commands would receive my judgment in the court, and if I found that he had disobeyed me willfully and with clear understanding, I would sentence him to the high doom." 

I was silent a moment, then pushed my own plate aside and said quietly, "I doubt that you need worry that Henry will be that man." 

Peter looked up. "He told you, then." 

"He came to me after he had spoken to you. He said that you had forbidden him from looking into the matter any further." 

Peter sighed, picked up a piece of bread, looked at it, and placed it on the plate once more. "What else could I do? I'm sure it's true, as he says, that this subcaptain he speaks of raped his sister many years ago – but that was during war. The court summoners refuse to issue charges in such cases, and I am not going to tell the summoners how to do their job. Henry wanted me to overrule the summoners. That's the problem with arguing these matters with palace servants; they always know the law. Though of course Henry is no longer your servant." 

"No, his retirement is well deserved," I said, turning my attention to the pitcher of wall-vine wine Andrew had left. I poured a cup for the Chara and one for myself, saying, "I cannot tell you how many times Henry saved me from making a fool of myself when I first began working for the council. And now that we are no longer master and servant, but council lord and palace guest, I have the pleasure of his company. That is no doubt why he was kind enough to confide his distress to me last night." 

"I hate to issue direct commands, especially toward those whom I know well, such as Henry, but it seemed to me the best way to keep him from tearing himself apart over this matter. He is such a loyal subject that he will do his best now to forget the trouble, and in that way I can help ease his grief. It is times like this that I'm happy to have the Chara's power." 

I smiled at Peter over my cup. "You have great sensitivity toward your subjects, Chara. As an example, the manner in which you eased your clerk's embarrassment a short while ago." 

Peter laughed. "I doubt that I would actually put anybody under the high doom for touching the royal seal-ring – it is not the pendant, after all – but it's an easy way to demonstrate to Brian my trust in him." He put down his cup abruptly, causing several drops to shoot onto the table. "That relates to a subject I wanted to discuss with you, Carle. I wasn't sure at first whether I ought to, for it is a matter that really should not come to the council's ears, at least not while I'm undecided on what to do. But your advice to me about the proclamation was proof to me – not that I ought to have needed proof – that you can give me an unbiased opinion. Would it be possible for me to ask for your silence on this matter? It is a sensitive and highly important question of the law." 

I paused a while before saying, "Chara, you know that I dislike putting myself in a position where I must keep secrets from the High Lord. If there is anyone else with whom you can discuss this, I would ask that you do so. But if there is not, then I am at your service." 

"There are many men who would have the knowledge to advise me, but none that I would trust to do so," said Peter quietly. "You will understand why when I explain. It relates to a law document Brian found in the slave-quarters." 

"In the slave-quarters, Chara?" 

"Well, the palace basement is what remains of the original palace, you know; the slave-quarters and dungeon and Labyrinth all date to the time of the Chara William. Do you know of the southern serving pantry?" 

"Certainly, Chara. It is in my slave-servants' section of the quarters." 

"Is it? Well, then, it is all the more appropriate that I tell you this, since I had been feeling guilty about the subterfuge I had my clerk undertake in that pantry." Peter pushed himself back from the table, leaning his chair back so that the noonday sun fell onto his face. At most times he looked considerably older than other men of twenty-five years, but now his brief grin made him look ten years younger. "I think that Brian must have concluded that I had mistakenly hired him as a spy, but I dared not do anything in the open. I've known since I was quite young that there is a hidden passage leading out from that pantry. It is one of two secrets my father told me that are known only to the Chara and his heir. My father had wanted to explore the passage to see what secrets lay hidden there . . . as had my grandfather and my great-grandfather and so on. None of the Charas had ever found the time. I finally realized that I wouldn't have the time either, so I delegated Brian with the responsibility of finding a way to enter the passage unnoticed and to discover what lay there." 

I was beginning to see why Peter had chosen to discuss this topic with no one other than me, and I felt humbled that he would trust me so. But over the years I have been occasionally bound by jealousy. Now I found myself asking, "Was it wise to trust such a new clerk to so delicate a task?" 

"I've known Brian for nine years, Carle. It was Andrew who first introduced him to me, after I had Andrew work as a court scribe for several months while you and I went on that trip to the dominions just before my enthronement. Brian's loyalty is certain – as is revealed by the fact that he brought what he found directly to me." 

"This is the document you mentioned?" I heard the trumpet call seven times and realized that I would endure the wrath of Lord Dean for being late to the council, but nothing could have moved me from my place. 

Peter nodded. "He found it in a chamber at the very end of the passage. The document was rolled up in a metal cylinder, well protected, yet it nearly fell to pieces when Brian unrolled it. Its text is written in Ancient Emorian." 

He let these words drop in as matter-of-fact a manner as if he were describing a proclamation scribed the day before. I knew that this was not due to ignorance. By the time Peter had become my pupil, he already knew Old Emorian, the language that is used for royal documents. I had taken the trouble to teach him Archaic Emorian, the tongue in which the oldest law books were originally written. But I was uncertain I had ever seen any documents dating from the time before the Chara and his council settled their final division of powers. "Are you sure, Chara?" 

"The chamber itself could have revealed the antiquity of the document," Peter replied quietly. "It had glowing golden walls – does that tell you anything, Carle?" 

I was silent a minute before saying, "The original Court of Judgment." 

"Yes, of course. Not the court in the Chara William's palace, but the court built during the first century. We had always thought it was destroyed during Emor's civil war, but apparently William incorporated it into the design of his palace. The court is in many ways disturbing in what it tells about Emor's early years, but the document is what concerns me most." 

I waited silently. Only the song of a summer bird could be heard through Peter's window. The window faced south toward a deliberately empty plot of land between the front palace and the inner garden. That land was accessible to none. This allowed Peter an unbroken view of the black border mountains, though there were other, more obvious reasons that the area was kept deserted. 

Peter said, "Ancient Emorian is an odd language, very close to Border Koretian. Though I don't have Brian's knowledge of languages, I could read the document easily myself. Its oddest characteristic is this: the frequency of the vowels can reveal the dating of a document to within a few years. Brian used that knowledge to confirm that the document he brought me was actually written by the group that it claimed to be written by." 

"And that group was?" 

Peter leaned forward, met my eyes, and paused for a heartbeat before saying, "The Council of the Charas." 

It took more than a few heartbeats before I could be sure I would speak in a steady voice. "Are you saying that this document pre-dates the giving of the law?" 

"It dates from the time _of_ the giving of the law. One of the council lords who signed the document was named Ysaye." 

My mouth was dry as I spoke. "The first Chara." 

"Yes, and it is clear that he was in the process of being appointed High Judge at the time that this document was drawn up. What Brian found – now you will understand why he showed such loyalty in bringing this directly to me – is a missing portion of the law-structure." 

I swallowed, discovered that my mouth was still dry, and turned to pour myself another glass of wine. When I turned back, Peter was watching me with a faint smile on his face. 

"Well, it scared me too," he said candidly. "I knew that that sort of thing happened in the time of the Middle Charas. Every now and then a bit of the ancient law-structure would be discovered and added to what was already known. But that hasn't happened for four hundred years. I felt as though I had just stumbled across the burial ground of the first Charas." 

"Chara—" I stopped, but could not prevent myself from asking the impertinent question: "Why in the name of the dead Charas have you not brought this news to the council?" 

"Because . . ." Peter hesitated, looking bemused, and then said tentatively, "Because I wasn't sure it was wise. Because . . . Well, let me recite the portion to you. You'll recognize the first part; it's a variation on part of the central passage of the law-structure that we already possess. It's the second part that is important. 'And it has been told to us—'" He stopped suddenly, rose, and closed the shutter to his window. 

I had held many a secret conversation with Peter in this room, and I had never known him to do such a thing. The Chara's quarters were intentionally chosen to be far from any place where someone could eavesdrop; the walls and doors were all very thick, and the windows were spear-lengths away from any place accessible. If anything more had been needed to make me feel that I was being entrusted with a deep and grave secret, Peter's actions would have accomplished this. 

He sat down again and said in a low voice, stumbling slightly over the Old Emorian into which his clerk had presumably translated the document, "'And it has been told to us by the Lawgiver that in order to earn his peace we must not quarrel amongst ourselves and try to gain power over each other, as though we were enemies rather than brothers dedicated to serving the Law. And so we have decided, in a spirit of love and respect, that if any amongst those signed here, or those who succeed us, should fail at any time in his balance of judgment and depart from his duty toward the people, he will accept the other Charas' reprimand and restore his judgment toward truth.'" 

Peter paused, and even in the shadow cast by the closed shutters I could see the seriousness of his expression as he continued, "'And this applies most especially to the Chara whom we appoint as High Judge, as he, above all men in this land, must show complete dedication to his work, judging without favor to any man, wreaking vengeance upon our people's enemies, and showing mercy toward those who serve the Lawgiver with loyalty. And since his power is greater, so must the penalties for his failure in duty be greater. We have therefore decided that if the High Judge loses his balance of judgment, whether from twistedness or madness or lack of dedication, and if he does not accept the reprimand of the council and change his decisions, he shall be stripped of his powers and another appointed High Judge in his place.'" 

The afternoon sun had slowly shifted so that a crack of light through the shutters fell onto Peter's emblem brooch, which was lying on the small table where he had laid it the previous evening. The light broke up into a dozen tiny spots of light, one of them falling upon Peter's face. I said, "You wish my advice, Chara?" 

"I do, Carle." 

"No one must ever know about this document except you and the Chara To Be." 

Peter said quietly, "You think it is that dangerous?" 

"I am sure you can see for yourself that it is, or you would not have hesitated to bring it to the council. The first half of it is, as you say, a variation on the passage that later formed the basis for the rules of council discipline. It is like the rest of the law-structure as we know it: a general description of how the Chara and the council ought to behave. But the second half is different. It is evidently a section from the portion of the law-structure that we know was destroyed at the time of the peace settlement after the civil war. It shows the original division of powers that led the council to try to overthrow the Chara. I would not be surprised if this was the very passage that the council used in its attempt to strip the Chara of his powers. It could easily happen again. Any council that knew of this passage could blackmail you into changing your judgments. Eventually you would lose your right to be High Judge." 

When Peter spoke, the strain in his voice revealed how difficult it was for him to make the next statement. "If it is that dangerous a document, perhaps I should burn it." 

I thought for a long time before saying, "Chara, I do not think it is only my love for the law that prevents me from advising this. We do not know what the original law-structure was like, and so we do not have the knowledge that the Chara William had at the time of the peace settlement to help us decide which portions of the law-structure ought to be destroyed. It may be that a crisis will some day arise in this land which is so serious that the Chara To Be feels the need to bring this document to the notice of the council. But I feel certain that this is a matter that should be decided by the Charas, who over the centuries have acquired a gift for judgment which no other men in this land have." 

A gift of judgment is what I called it, but it was a curiously inadequate phrase for the transformation that the Chara undergoes at the time of his enthronement. It is not a matter of blood; there have been a few cases over the centuries where the only close royal relatives were female, and the Chara married into his power. It is a power that is also inherent to every Chara To Be, dwelling close beneath the surface until it is required. Now, as I watched, Peter's face took on the look that he wore when sitting in judgment over his subjects. For many minutes more he remained that way, mentally reviewing the witness he had received. Then the lines in his face relaxed and he said softly, "Yes. You are right. How should I do this?" 

My heart was still racing from what I had just seen. I stacked the empty plates on top of each other, drained my cup, and took the wine pitcher over to its usual place before asking, "Where is the document now?" 

"Safely locked in the clerk's documents room. The court clerk has the only key." 

"Some day I must show you the lock-picking techniques I learned in the army." 

"Any spy who wanted to pick that lock would first have to make his way past two separate sets of guards at the entrance to that section of the clerk's quarters . . . and it requires my command to allow a man past that point. You may be sure that I will not let anyone except the clerk in that area in the future." 

"Then you have only the clerk and myself to worry about," I said. "I suggest that you command us both, on penalty of the high doom, to remain silent about this matter." 

"Brian, yes; it will help him to follow my wishes. But I do not need to command you in this matter, Carle." 

"Chara, you would make it considerably easier for me if you did. I am a council lord, and it is likely that, in the future, you and the council will quarrel about your judgments. I do not want to feel any temptation to reveal what you have told me today." 

Peter sighed, reaching up to unclasp his cloak. "May the high doom fall upon me; I wish that I hadn't burdened you with this. Well, I am not going to issue you with a direct command for the simple reason that you do not officially know about this matter; I asked for your private opinion. But if you want, you may give me your free-man's oath. I know that that will bind you just as surely." 

Without another word, I drew my sword, made my oath, and said, "Now go see the clerk." 

"Now?" Peter was busy pulling open the shutter. 

"Without delay. I am due in the council – overdue, in fact – but I swear that I will not be able to concentrate on a single speech until I am sure that this matter is settled." 

Peter smiled as he undid his sword belt and pulled off his formal tunic. "The sight of you failing to concentrate in the council would be enough to alert Lord Dean that you were hiding some dark secret. Come with me, then, and witness my command yourself. It will give you a chance to chat with Brian and see that I have nothing to worry about where he is concerned." 

o—o—o

"Two dozen p-proclamations," said the court clerk. "A letter to Lord Alan, requesting an answer to your previous two letters to him. A second c-copy of the judgment document that I erred in scribing this morning. And a list of this morning's charges, j-just arrived from the court summoners." 

The clerk was pale of face as he pushed the papers over Peter's way for his signature. He had received his direct command only minutes before and had then volunteered his own oath that he would say nothing, an action that was both unnecessary and reassuring. 

Peter was sitting casually on the clerk's writing-table. He began scanning the sheets with a practiced eye, simultaneously saying, "What a fine hand this scribe has, Brian. Is he anyone I know?" 

"Oh, I did that one myself – in my own t-time, of course. I don't want to lose my touch at that work. B-besides, I thought that the Koretian governor needed all the elegance we could give him." 

"He does indeed. I am becoming more and more frustrated with the man. —This sheet is not so fine, and it contains three spelling errors. One of them is of my name, so I would appreciate it if you would have the scribe redo it." Peter handed the clerk the offending page without looking up from the following sheet. 

"I apologize, Ch-chara. I sh-should have caught that m-myself." The clerk's stutter became more pronounced, as it always did in moments of stress. 

"Believe me, you have far better scribes than do the court summoners. I think that those scribes must receive their schooling from illiterate slaves. Last year I had—" He stopped suddenly, his eyes darting more quickly across the lines than they had before as his finger traced down the edge of the paper. Halfway through he said, "Carle." 

"Yes, Chara?" Like a man who sights a death shadow before he sees the figure that casts it, I knew what he was going to say, and my mind was already racing ahead to what I must do to help Peter in this matter. 

"Henry has been summoned for murder." Peter finally looked up from the sheet, his eyes grave. 

I said dispassionately, "The subcaptain?" 

"Yes. The palace guards have Henry in custody." His gaze remained linked with mine a while longer. Then he turned to the clerk and said, "Brian, please send a letter to the court summoners, requesting that they issue a second charge against Henry for disobedience to the Chara. The witness is myself." 

"No, Chara." 

Peter's eyes swung back toward me; they were wide with surprise. "Carle, I must. I thought you would understand." 

"I mean that you need not give witness against Henry. I will do so myself, as he told me of his conversation with you." 

Peter's expression became guarded. "That is too much to ask of you, Carle. One matter I am glad of is that Henry is no longer a free-servant, so he will not appear before your judgment." 

"Chara, if you find Henry guilty of disobedience and place him under the high doom, you will endure a great deal of criticism. I would rather that it be clear from the start where my loyalties lie in this matter." 

This was not at all my motivation for being witness. My motivation was to see the look of relief that spread across Peter's face as he said, "Thank you; that makes it a good deal easier for me. Now I have less to worry about – except, of course," he added with a humorless smile, "what Andrew will say when he hears of my charge. He has a fondness for Henry." 

"As do you, Chara," I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice that Peter would worry about Andrew at a moment like this. "Perhaps it is time that Andrew learned that you cannot always do what makes him happy." 

Peter was silent a while before saying, "Perhaps it is indeed time that he learned that." 

o—o—o

Standing in the court anteroom two weeks later, Peter said to me quietly, "I don't know how I would have had the courage to do what I did today if it hadn't been for your help, Carle. I wanted you to know that now, though I can't stay to talk. I am going outside to witness the execution." 

"You have more courage than I, Chara," I said in a low voice. "I went to see Henry in the dungeon last night, to warn him of what your sentence for disobedience was likely to be. That took all my strength. I am glad that he will have someone he knows there." 

Peter hesitated before saying, "Will you wait for me in my quarters, Carle? I would like to have a few more words with you." 

His words echoed upon me as I stood in his sitting chamber a short while later. I had never before witnessed Peter in the hours after he sentenced prisoners to the high doom. The spears were always crossed before his door on such occasions, and the only one who saw him during that time was Andrew, who of course lived in the Chara's quarters. Now I stood with Peter's emblem brooch in my hand, my thoughts on the dedication that Peter had shown toward his duty. I found myself smiling to think of how privileged I was to have been befriended by such a man. 

I held the emblem up; a beam of light hit it and fragmented. One of the pieces fell on Andrew, standing silently at the doorway. 

My mind was still too much on Peter for me to be able to react as I normally would have to Andrew's presence. I put the brooch gently down and said, "Good day to you, Andrew. I hope that you are well today." 

Andrew made no immediate reply. I supposed that he was startled to find me in the Chara's quarters immediately after such a case. Then he said, "Good day to you, Lord Carle. May I offer you wine?" 

I could read nothing more in his voice than detached politeness. Perhaps that was why the guard which I normally maintained against Andrew slipped at that moment. I replied, "Thank you, but no. I am on my way back to my quarters to change. I only stopped to give the Chara my congratulations for his fine judgment in this case." 

Andrew's eyes remained linked with mine. Then he said, his words falling like a blade upon my unguarded heart, "I am sure that the Chara will want to congratulate you as well for the help you gave in the case." 

Coming from Andrew, I knew what insult lay behind his statement, but unknown to him, his words were no more than the truth. My knowledge of this – of Peter's thankfulness to me – lent me firmness as I said, "It was of course regretful that I should have had to give evidence against my former servant. But Henry disobeyed the Chara, and it is important to Emor that disloyalty not be allowed to flourish." 

"Yes," Andrew said softly. "I suppose that the fact that Henry served you loyally for thirty years does not compensate you for discovering that you had a disobedient servant." 

It went through me like a death-stroke then, the feelings I had kept so well controlled since the night before, when I visited Henry, and he wept at my news. Floundering in my own blood, I said in a loud and brusque voice, "If Henry had been disobedient to me, I would have forgiven him. But he was disobedient to the Chara, to whom he swore, on his free-man's blade, that he would serve with loyalty. Betrayal of the Chara cannot be forgiven. The life of Emor depends on the Chara's subjects obeying his commands." 

For once, Andrew's voice was raised as well, and his pitch was higher than usual. "If you are concerned with the Chara and not with your own pride, then you might recall that the Chara also made an oath of loyalty, one to show mercy toward those placed under his care. It is an oath, I think, that all masters should be required to make. Since you have so much loyalty toward the Chara, perhaps you would like to begin such a custom." 

My chest was tight; it was not clear to me whether I was actually breathing. There flashed through me a tremendous doubt, the sort that Andrew was talented at raising in me. Was the Chara truly proud of me for witnessing against my former servant? Or did he secretly think the less of me? Did he see my act as evidence that I was indeed what Andrew told him I was, a merciless master? 

For nine years now, Andrew had continued to whisper his malicious thoughts about me in Peter's ear. In return I had said nothing spiteful about Andrew, had not even told Peter of my doubts about Andrew's faithfulness. I was an unarmed man trying to fight a war against a dangerously weaponed man, and any moment now I might lose the war for Peter's friendship. 

Speaking slowly to keep my voice from breaking, I said, "You are a fine one to talk to me of loyalty." 

At that moment I realized that Andrew was dressed for the court. What alerted me to this fact was Andrew's right hand tightening on the hilt of his sheathed dagger. He said with a vicious hiss, "What do you mean by—?" 

"Enough." 

The word came from the Chara. He was standing at the open doorway, he was still wearing his pendant, and he looked upon me with the wrathful face of the Chara in judgment. 

I had not been forced to endure that look for over thirty years. Of course I had seen it on Peter's face in the court, as well as on a few occasions when another man was disciplined in my presence. That was hard enough to bear. But the full look, I knew from experience, could not be felt except by the person being disciplined, and I had always taken great care never again to be that person. I had too much honor for the law, and too great a respect for the Chara, to receive the Chara's look with anything less than dark fear. And now I was receiving the look from the man who was my closest friend. 

"Return here later." The Chara's voice was colder than it had been in the Court of Judgment a short while before. He had not looked Andrew's way; Andrew, at least, would not have to bear the punishment of the Chara's judgment. I did not wait for the moment when the Chara would turn to look at Andrew, and his face would soften. I bowed mutely and left. 

For a long while after, I stood in the corridor, trying to remember what Peter's other face looked like.


	12. Justification | 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**   
**975 a.g.l.**   


> _The Justification to a law serves as a bright alternative to the dark "justifications" which are sometimes presented by prisoners at their trials. Though the reasons for the commission of a crime may seem warranted at first glance, a closer examination of the prisoner's character generally shows that his motives are far from simple and often contain a great element of selfishness and evil._

  
o—o—o

"May the high doom fall upon you, Carle! Why didn't you tell me that Andrew had vowed to kill me?" 

I had never before heard Peter use that curse against anyone other than himself, since he was the one person in the empire who could make the curse come true. Now he stood with arms folded, the late afternoon sun glimmering off the emblem brooch on his brown tunic. The sun had shifted considerably since my argument with Andrew at noonday, and had shifted even since my return to the Chara's quarters. 

I had already received – at considerable length – Peter's lecture on what sort of behavior he expected from his council lords, and how this did not include brawling with his free-servant at such a volume that the rest of the palace could hear. He had also recited to me in painful detail various passages I had once made Peter memorize about the relationship between a master and his servant – in this particular instance, the servant being myself. 

All this I might have expected, and in fact I found a certain satisfaction in knowing that I had trained Peter well enough for him to understand that even my justified argument with Andrew was a departure from my service to the Chara. But this latest statement left me gaping at him speechlessly. 

"For fourteen years you say you've known this. _Fourteen years_. And I only learned about it today because Andrew was angry enough to mention it. During the eleven years that Andrew has been in my service, I've treated him as I would any other servant: I disciplined him with mercy, I gave him his freedom and his free-man's weapon – by the laws, I gave him a _weapon_. And all this time it never once occurred to you to mention to me that my servant was a potential murderer." 

I found my voice again. "I did not want to strain relations between you and your servant. I would certainly have mentioned the matter if I had thought there was any danger of him carrying out the threat." 

Peter had been pacing back and forth in front of me, striding in and out of the light which fell upon me as though exposing all that I was. He stopped now, and said with the angry restraint I had once shown toward him on occasions when he was being particularly obtuse in his lesson-work, "Carle, you still don't understand, do you? I have no fear of Andrew harming me; he is more likely to cut his own throat. What bothers me is that he has been under my care for all these years, and I never knew about this potential he has for violence. I could have been helping him during this time to learn to control his bloodthirst – but how could I help him when you were acting as though he was still under your care, hiding from me this vital piece of information?" 

"Chara, I told you many years ago that Andrew tried to kill three men before I bought him." 

Peter had begun pacing once more. Now he stopped in front of his writing-table and pushed aside the sword there, as though placing it safely out of reach. "When? When did you tell me such a thing?" 

I hesitated before saying, "On the occasion that I told you why I had Andrew gelded." 

There was a moment's silence, and I was startled to realize that Peter was having to call forth that occasion from deep memory. Finally he said, with quiet anger, "Carle, if you informed me of any other tremendously important matters on that day, I would appreciate your mentioning them now. I told you at the time that I intended to forget that conversation, and I meant it." 

I could feel a droplet of sweat make its way down my face; the summer sun was burning my body. My arms were hanging rigidly at my sides, unencumbered by the presence of my sword; I had taken care to arrive unarmed at his interview. Peter waited to see whether I would reply, and then said, "So. You fail to mention that my servant and friend has taken a vow to kill me. You mention that he has tried to kill three other men, but you make this statement at the moment when I am least likely to notice it. Do you wish to confess anything else?" 

"Chara . . ." My voice was hoarse, and I had to make a second attempt at speech. "I see now that I was wrong in not telling you this before, but I hope you realize that I meant well." 

"You . . . meant . . . well." Peter flung the words at me like tiny dagger thrusts. "Carle, you _always_ mean well. You meant well when you gelded Andrew, you meant well when you nearly beat him to death, you have meant well all these years while making subtle comments calculated to break my friendship with Andrew. Whenever I hear that you have committed some ruthless and brutal act, I know that it will soon be followed by your explanation of how you meant well." 

A numbness was beginning to enter into me. Perhaps it was the effect of standing in the sun for three hours. "Chara, I never knew that you felt this way about me." 

"No? Well, perhaps that is because I have shown you a great deal of mercy over the years. By the law-structure itself, I nearly laughed two weeks ago when you accused me of being lax in my discipline of Andrew. You said it in such a smug manner, certain that Andrew was the only one who had received my favor. You have no idea how many complaints I have received against you over the years: about your disciplining of slaves, about your judgment of council prisoners, about the rude and abrasive manner in which you treat even your fellow lords. Lord Dean told me last year that he wished to bring the council's discipline upon you for the way in which you treat prisoners under your care. I came to your defense, as I have done many times before. But you were quite right two weeks ago: I ought not to allow my servants to go heedlessly their own way." 

The sun had shifted once more. Now I could see its fiery reflection on the gold banner-poles upon the palace roof. Some instinct kept me gazing that way. 

"Look at me." Peter's voice was firm with a quiet authority that caused my heart to begin to race. He waited until I had met his eyes again before saying, "I have never felt the need to treat you and Andrew in the same manner. You are different men, and what is simply hard for one of you may be unbearable for the other. In particular, I never wanted to use this against you, but neither you nor Andrew have left me any choice. I will be as quick as I can." 

And indeed, he was already shifting into the expression of the Chara in judgment as he spoke, and his words came with a rapidity I had never witnessed in the court. "Lord Carle, let me be clear. From this moment, you are not to begin any conversation with Andrew son of Gideon, free-servant to the Chara, unless I am present. Do you understand?" 

It was a mercifully short command, and so it was my own fault that the moment stretched on as I stared mutely at the Chara, aware of my greatest fear only now that I was facing its reality. Eventually I found the strength to say huskily, "Yes." 

"Good." Peter's voice was almost gentle as he turned away, but he did not look toward me again. The look of the Chara in judgment is not under the Chara's direct control, and there are times when it lingers beyond the moment he desires. He said quietly, "You had better leave." 

I made my bow – thirty years of training comes to use at such moments – and then I stepped out of the burning light and into the dark corridor. 

o—o—o

I have no clear recollection of what followed. This is not because I lost my memory or because I was unaware of what I was doing and saying at the time. It is just that what occurred seemed so unimportant compared to what had preceded it that the events made no more impression on my mind than a gentle shower does upon rock. 

Afterwards, of course, I tried to remember what had happened, and a few fragmented visions came to the surface. I remember the moment when I met Andrew as I was about to step out of a passageway into the inner garden, and how he blocked my path. I remember remaining silent as he confronted me, and then, when Andrew spoke first and thus released me from the Chara's command, how I even took care to warn Andrew not to say anything further – knowing, as I did, that he must have received the same command I had. 

He spoke again. I remember little of the conversation which followed except that I used all the weapons I had employed against Andrew over the years, playing with his feelings of guilt over rejecting his Koretian heritage, toying with his submerged fear that he would prove similarly disloyal to the Chara. And finally I turned away toward the garden, my only thought being to get as far away as possible from Andrew and anything else in the palace that might remind me of what had just occurred between me and Peter. 

I did not even recognize the sound that came next. But an old instinct caused me to turn, and the moment when my memory returns is the moment when I saw Andrew standing before me, his dagger pointed at my chest. 

I was afraid, you may be sure of that. But so small was this fear compared to what I had felt in the Chara's quarters that my mind was not concentrated on my impending death, but rather on the amused thought that it was just like Andrew to break the great Emorian taboo against killing an unarmed man. 

Then the dagger touched the skin above my heart, and my mind cleared enough to know that I would die unless I said something to prevent it. I did not want to die, not while so much remained unsaid between Peter and me. I raised my gaze from the dagger to meet Andrew's cold eyes, and I wondered to myself what I could say that would restrain the violent impulse he had finally brought forth. 

The Koretians say that the gods bring inspiration to those who call upon them. Well, I was not praying to any god, but certainly inspiration came to me at that moment from an unlikely source. I had never thought that my knowledge of Koretian customs would be of any use to me in my private life, but now I remembered that, in one respect at least, Emorians and Koretians share the same beliefs. 

I said with the sereneness of a man who knows he has cast his final blow of defense, "I see that I am to become acquainted with a new Koretian custom, that of killing an unarmed man." 

Pain seared across my chest, and for a moment, fear blackened my vision. Then I heard a clash and recollected that dead men cannot hear. My sight returned, and I saw that Andrew was standing before me, the rage still present in his eyes, but the dagger cast from his hand. 

I swear that the smile which I began to form in the next moment was not one of triumph; it was one of pure relief that I had found the right thing to say. But I had no time to enjoy that comfort. My next and final memory of the encounter is of me lying on the ground, touching my stricken cheek while Andrew stared down at me with grim satisfaction. 

o—o—o

I slammed Andrew's bloody dagger onto the table before me. "I wish to request a summons." 

The court summoner looked up at me blandly. No doubt he had witnessed this scene many times during his forty years in these quarters. I evoked more of a reaction from Lord Dean, who had been talking to the summoner when I entered, and who now came over to pick up the bone-hilted dagger. 

"By all the law books, Carle, I never thought that your squabbles with Andrew would come to this. What has he been doing to you?" 

I once more called forth upon my training, this time to restrain me in my reply to Lord Dean's almost gleeful question. "High Lord, I will be glad to submit a report on the matter presently. Just now I have other duties to carry out." 

I suppose that my voice could not have been as restrained as I had hoped. Lord Dean's eyes glittered as he said tersely, "Don't bleed on the summoners' papers." Then he left. 

I looked down. By a miracle, Andrew's dagger had not penetrated my heart as he threw it aside, but it had created a shallow wound below my heart. I forced myself to look away and followed the summoner's instructions to sit down. 

I told him as much as I remembered, and it was apparently enough, for he said, "I will issue two charges, then: one for disobedience and one for attempted murder. As Andrew is a free-servant, he will naturally be under your judgment." 

This aspect of the matter had not occurred to me. I had requested the summons only as one last futile attempt to protect the Chara from his murderous servant. Now at last I began to see hope. 

"Unless, of course, you transfer the prisoner into the Chara's care," the court summoner added as he glanced over to where his scribe was marking down the charges. 

"No." 

The summoner raised his eyebrows at the abruptness of my tone. "Very well. There is the matter of the witnesses. From what you say, the Chara is the only witness to the charge of disobedience." 

I nodded. That charge would be dropped, then, when Peter refused to give evidence – but I would still have the satisfaction of stating to Andrew that the charge had been made. 

The summoner continued, "It is usually wiser not to have the judge also be the witness. You say that there were guards present in the garden when this happened?" 

"Two guards arrested Andrew. I am not sure how much they saw." 

"Well, we will check into it. Now, if you could sign here . . ." 

I followed his instructions, listened to him tell me the procedures for summoning and judgment that I knew as well as he, and finally made my escape into the corridor. There I found a page awaiting me, bearing a request that I come to the Chara's quarters. 

The spears were crossed when I arrived, but they rose as I approached, and one of the guards indicated that I was to go straight in. Clutching Andrew's dagger, which the summoner had dryly indicated would not be needed for evidence, I opened the door. 

Night had fallen by now, and for a moment I could see nothing in the room other than a red fire blazing in the fireplace – an odd sight for a warm summer evening. Then a black figure rose in the shadows near the hearth. I tried without success to discern its face, and then closed the door, bowed, and said formally, "You wished to see me, Chara." 

Peter's voice replied softly, "Carle, I have not asked you here for your witness – the matter is in your hands now. I wanted to see how you were. Lord Dean said that you had been hurt." 

I came forward then, laying the dagger on the writing-table, where it would be hidden from Peter's view. I halted only when I had come close enough to see Peter's face. It was filled with grief and weariness. 

Something bit at the back of my throat, but I could not think of the right words to speak. After a while, Peter reached out his hand and touched my face, turning it gently toward the firelight so that he could see the bruised left side. Then his hand travelled down to the cut below my heart. 

He said, "You ought to see the physician." 

"It is just a scratch, Chara." I could not seem to relax my voice out of its formal tones. 

He was silent a moment before saying, "Will you at least allow me to clean it?" 

I nodded and abandoned formality, sinking down into a seat beside the fire. Peter retreated into his sleeping chamber. When he returned, he was holding a water-bowl and cloth. He knelt by my side, tore the tunic open further to expose the wound, and began patiently washing away the blackened blood. 

As he did, he said, "I am more sorry than I can say, Carle. Not only for what happened with Andrew, but for what I said before. I committed the crime of false witness." 

I said hollowly, "You spoke only the truth, Chara. You are not the first man to show me what I am." 

Peter reached down and dipped the cloth into the bowl, staining the water red. "Tutor of mine, do not lose your grasp of the law. You know that a man can give false witness while speaking the truth. It is true that you can be cruel, but you are also one of the kindest men I know, and I have been the recipient of that kindness many times over the years." 

I flinched as his cloth began to clean inside the wound, but Peter did not falter. He had gentle firmness in the face of pain, such as is learned only by men who are doctors or judges. He continued, "I will not embarrass you by saying more on that subject; you know my feelings for you. I can only promise that this will never happen again. I think it only occurred this time because I fell into my father's old fault of going short on sleep, and that affected my judgment." 

I bowed my head to get a better view of Peter's face. The ever-present grey circles under his eyes were nearly black. "You ought not to do that, Chara. Nothing is so important that it cannot wait a night's sleep." 

"You're right, of course, though it is easy to forget. —Will you go to the physician to have that bandaged? Please?" Peter knelt back on his haunches. 

"I promise you I will." 

Reassured, Peter put the bowl aside and leaned back against the legs of the chair. After a moment, I slid down onto the floor beside him. 

"Everything seems to be happening at once this month," he said. "First there are serious reports coming out of Koretia – not from the governor, who ought to have informed me of such matters, but from some new spies I sent out who have not yet had time to be corrupted by the Jackal. I fear that the rebel-leader will bring a crisis to that land soon. And then, for the past fortnight, I had been trying desperately to locate Henry's sister so that she could offer witness on his behalf. That is why I delayed the trial for so long. The law says that I can keep prisoners up to a month without trial, but I have always considered it cruel to delay past one week. So, what with all that, I lost control of myself for a while today." 

I thought to myself that I ought to speak on the matter of Andrew and ease Peter's mind in whatever way I could about his servant, but I was reluctant to break the peace that had been restored between us. So I said lightly, "I lost control not long ago with the High Lord. In so many words, I told him to leave me alone." 

Peter gave a slight smile; he was the only person who knew my true opinion of Lord Dean. "Watch your back, Carle; Dean has a long memory. I was four years old when I touched my father's pendant, and Dean waited ten years before revealing that crime to my father at your dinner table." 

"What led you to confide in Lord Dean?" I was looking his way, as he and the fire were the only objects I could truly see. A half-circle of light enclosed us and guarded us from the darkness beyond. 

"I don't know. I suppose I was young enough that I still thought that most men are trustworthy. And I was spending time in his hometown, which I very much enjoyed. I've always regretted that I never had the opportunity to visit your village before my enthronement. What is it like?" 

"Very intimate, very companionable, very peaceful. A good deal like this chamber." 

The words were out of my mouth before I could recall them. I saw Peter's hand check as he reached toward the fire to push a blazing twig back. This was the closest I had ever come to telling him what his friendship meant to me. He did not look my way, but said, "I enjoy it here as well. I once told And—" He stopped and said quickly, "I once told someone that this was the only place where I felt truly released from being the Chara, and that if I didn't have my time here with friends, I would lose my balance. That is one reason I am reluctant to get married – the uncertainty of what a new person in my life here would mean." 

I barely heard his final words. I was thinking that his attempt to erase Andrew from his conversation revealed clearly what he thought I was going to do. I must release him from at least some of his agony. 

"Chara, about Andrew's charges—" 

I stopped as Peter went rigid. I had not known him to lose control of his movements like that for many years. He said softly, "I cannot give witness against him in the charge of disobedience. I'm sorry. I know that I am showing less courage than you showed today at Henry's trial, but I cannot do it." 

"Chara, I do not expect you to. I wanted you to know that I am willing to drop the charge of attempted murder in exchange for the charge of striking a nobleman." 

Peter moved back from the fire a little. He said, with the precision of a well-trained schoolboy, "The sentence for such a crime is mercy or branding or enslavement." 

"Yes. Now I ask you, Chara, to hear me through until I have finished giving you my thoughts." 

Peter nodded, his eyes fixed on the fire. I said, "I am not transferring this case into your care for reasons I will explain presently. But of course you will give Andrew his preliminary trial and offer to me your recommendation for judgment and sentence. And I promise you, I will take seriously what you recommend. I will also listen to Andrew's witness on his own behalf. It is clear from your conversation with me earlier today that his witness may be very different from my recollection of the events. I will take that into account in deciding the case." 

Peter said with the hard directness I had taught him, "But unless you find reason to do otherwise, you plan to sentence him to enslavement." 

I looked carefully at Peter. The Chara in judgment does not move except in the formal patterns custom demands, nor does the Chara facing his enemy in an official meeting reveal his inner thoughts through the expression in his face. No man sitting at the fireside with us tonight would have seen any flicker of change in Peter's face. But I caught the moment – the time lasting less than a heartbeat – when Peter's chin began to shake and he subdued himself. 

I said as gently as I could, "You told me two weeks ago that you were finding it difficult to be both master and friend to Andrew. I am not surprised. It is a difficult job to manage in any case, and especially when your servant has the problems that Andrew has. He is in great need of discipline to allow him to demonstrate the loyalty he truly wishes to have toward you. That is why I am not allowing you to judge Andrew, and that is why I plan to take him out of your care and make him my slave-servant once more. I myself will undertake the task I ought to have finished before I gave him to you, of showing him the benefits of a well-ordered service. I promise you that I will be more gentle than I have ever been with any servant, and I swear that I will not interfere with your friendship with him. One of his duties will be to visit you every day for as long as you request. I am doing this in order to give you an opportunity to be true friends with Andrew – not to be torn as you presently are between showing him affection or discipline." 

Peter's mouth was resting upon his knee. When I had finished, he said in a muffled voice, "Carle, is there nothing I can say to persuade you to change your mind?" 

"No, Chara. It may be that I am making a grievous mistake, as I have done in the past, but Andrew has been placed by the summoners under my care, and I must do what I consider best for both him and you." 

Peter raised his head finally and met my eyes. His expression was serious as he said, "Then I will only say that I thank you. I think that you are wrong in doing this – I know that you are wrong – but it is no light matter for you to willingly take on the service of a man who has just tried to kill you. I consider it evidence of our friendship that you would burden yourself in this way." 

A gentler man than myself would have accepted these generous words and left the matter as it was. But I had never cured myself of being Peter's tutor, and this seemed to me the best opportunity I would ever have to raise an issue that had bothered me for many years. "Chara," I said, "my life would be much poorer without your friendship, but your words to me earlier today made me worry that I have caused you to stray from your duty. You took an oath at your enthronement to act without favor to any man, and every time you show greater mercy to me than you would to any of your other subjects, you are breaking that vow." 

"Or greater mercy to Andrew, you mean," Peter replied calmly. "Carle, I have always known your view on this matter; you do not need to put it into words for me. I have shown favor toward you and Andrew, not because I am unmindful of my duty, but because I feel that there are limits to the law. As far as official matters are concerned, you are right; I must not treat you any differently than I would my other subjects. But it seems to me that, in matters of unofficial judgment or where the law is ambiguous, it is my right as a man to follow the duties of friendship rather than the much narrower duties of the law." 

"If properly followed, I cannot see that there is any conflict between those two duties." 

"Can't you?" Peter gave me a look I could not interpret. "Well, perhaps it is a problem you haven't had to deal with, since you don't have friendships with your servants. You must believe me when I say that, when a man becomes the embodiment of the law, as I have, he becomes aware of how limited and inadequate the law can be. If I were to follow the law narrowly, without making allowances for friendship, I doubt that I would have any friends, and without friends, I could not do my job. But I promise you, I never let my personal relationships interfere with my work as Chara." 

"I did not mean to suggest such an idea, Chara," I said, wondering what I could say that would make him understand the all-penetrating nature of the law, the manner in which the law supports even friendships. "All that I am trying to suggest—" 

A knock sounded on the door, startling me into silence, since I had not expected Peter to be entertaining any other visitors while his guards' spears were crossed. With an apologetic look at me, Peter called the visitor in. 

It was the court clerk, peering nervously at us through the darkness. "You wished to s-see me, Chara?" 

I had risen already. "And here is a demonstration of your dedication, Chara. I will leave you to do your duty rather than to worry about matters of friendship." 

Peter looked uneasy; I supposed that he did not want to send me away in the midst of such an important conversation. But he only said, "We have never allowed our difference of opinions on the law to drive a wedge between us, Carle. Let us promise not to let it drive us apart in this matter." 

It was an easy promise for me to make; I would allow nothing to come between myself and Peter. "I am your servant in this as in all matters, Chara," I replied as I ceded the chamber to the court clerk. 

This I said and this I meant, but I knew the difference between allowing our friendship to breach and giving Peter the space he needed to undertake difficult duties. So I stayed away from his quarters all the following day, and paused in front of the Map Room that evening only to gather thoughts of sympathy for Peter. The spears were crossed; Peter was giving private judgment to a prisoner. Tomorrow, I knew, I would receive Peter's recommendation for the judgment and sentencing of Andrew. In view of our last conversation, I had no worries about what that recommendation would be. As always, Peter knew his duty. 

o—o—o

I spent the following afternoon in my study chamber, checking the council treasurer's records. Twenty years had passed since the council had last caught a treasurer cheating in his books, but this is such an easy temptation in the job that I had asked and received permission from Lord Dean to check the records periodically. This task involved adding up long lists of numbers. Since my arithmetic was not the best, it usually resulted in my spending the evening with a damp cloth over my face, trying to still the aching in my head. 

I was battling off the pain in an attempt to finish an especially long list when my concentration was shattered by Lord Dean's entrance. I suppressed a look of annoyance; the High Lord liked nothing better than to find a new way to irritate his subordinates. Instead, I rose and bowed, keeping my quill in hand to make clear that I was busy. 

"Good day to you, Carle," he said with a smile. "I wondered where you were hiding yourself today. Have I interrupted you?" 

"Not at all, High Lord; I was nearly finished. May I help you in some way?" 

"Not immediately, but I must meet with a delegation of town barons at the next trumpet's call, and I was hoping that you could help me sort through their reports." 

"I would be glad to, High Lord, but you may recall that I am holding judgment here this afternoon." 

Something passed over Lord Dean's face, and it was like the warning cry of a charging army; I braced myself for what was to come. The High Lord said in a light tone, "Oh, did I forget to send you a message about this? You need not trouble yourself with Andrew's case. The Chara has dealt with the matter." 

He stood by the door, leaning casually against the post, and looking at me with innocent eyes. He reminded me of a dog I used to own in my childhood, who would stand by while the villagers slaughtered their pigs, trying never to reveal through his look that he liked the smell of fresh blood. I said in an expressionless manner, "I am relieved to hear it. Perhaps I will be able to finish these figures, then. But I understood from what the summoner told me that the prisoner was under the council's care." 

"Yes, it is extraordinary the turn these cases take. I received a letter this morning from the summoners which clarified matters. It seems that the Chara met two evenings ago with his clerk – a very clever fellow, I've always thought – and together they worked out a plan whereby Andrew would resign from his position as free-servant to the Chara and become a palace guest. Since palace guests are under the care of the Chara, Peter held the trial last night. I believe that Andrew was found guilty of his crime and sentenced to mercy." 

I became aware that I was gripping my pen hard, and I relaxed my clutch. "Is it lawful to transfer the prisoner's care in that manner?" 

"I questioned the procedure myself and had our researchers check into the matter. But I need not have worried that the Chara would go astray in his knowledge of the law. The problem is addressed in an obscure proclamation that the Chara Duncan issued in order to revise the division of powers. It appears that the only cases where the law specifically forbids such a transfer is when the prisoner is facing death, which of course" – Lord Dean's smile deepened – "Andrew was not." 

"Well." My voice was raspy, and I had to start again. "Well, thank you for bringing me the news, Lord Dean. I will certainly come by in a short while to help you with the delegation, if you will just allow me a few minutes to finish here." 

Lord Dean did not move. His eyes were fixed on mine, and I sensed that he had not reached the climax of his pleasure. "You are such a diligent worker compared with me, Carle," he said cheerfully. "Here you are, acting as slave-servant to the council, and I have just wasted most of the day listening to the palace gossip. People are saying that the Chara has already ordered that a door be cut through from his quarters to the room next door, so that Andrew may have a new sleeping chamber, much larger than his old one." 

"Oh?" I said in what I hoped was a vague and disinterested manner. 

"Yes, the servants are quite impressed. They are already speaking of Andrew in the hushed tones that would normally be reserved for visiting royalty. I have even heard them referring to him by a new title: not 'palace guest of the Chara' but 'friend of the Chara.' I don't know how these appellations begin. Perhaps the Chara himself bestowed Andrew with the title." 

In this, his moment of supreme triumph, Lord Dean allowed a glint of malicious amusement to enter his eyes. I too had no interest in further pretense. I said, "I am rather busy, High Lord. I will come by the discussion room shortly." 

Lord Dean nodded and departed without a word. After some time of standing motionless, I felt a sharp jab in my hand. I looked down and discovered that I had crumpled my quill, sending the end stabbing into my palm. 

I put down the mangled pen, picked up another, and sat down. Then I went back to the top of my list and began meticulously adding up the monotonous numbers once more.


	13. Cases | 1

##  **_Law of Vengeance 4_**

##  **CASES**

> _Cases (law term):_ Passage within a law that cites examples where the law has been put into use – that is, where the crime has been charged.

  
**CHAPTER ONE**  
**986 a.g.l.**  


> _For the sake of convenience, modern editions of the law books place the Cases in a separate set of volumes, so that only the references can be found within the laws themselves. Many lovers of the law, however, find that the contents of these volumes are like Daxion nuts: once tasted, they are hard to resist. One popular hobby among students is to debate for hours at what point a crime is actually committed, for it is often hard to distinguish between acts which are innocent in themselves and acts which are inextricably tied to the breaking of a law._

  
o—o—o

Three months after the Koretian Ambassador came to the palace, I was bidden to the Chara's quarters and arrived there to find Peter pacing back and forth against the hearth, his eyes cold with rage. 

I hesitated at the threshold. Peter strode past me, slammed the door shut, and silently handed me a piece of paper. 

It was a letter, without greeting or signature, which gave information on military strength. For a moment I thought it was information that the Chara had gathered on the Jackal's army. Then, as I read further, I realized that I was reading information on the Chara's army. The letter was clearly not addressed to an Emorian. 

I looked up. The Chara was still staring at me with fury. I said, "So the Jackal has spies here. We have always known that." 

"The Jackal has had spies here since his enthronement, better spies than I have ever been able to train. But they could not have obtained this type of information. The Jackal has used the same trick against me that I used ten years ago against the Koretian governor: he has sent a spy whom he could depend upon to obtain my trust." 

"So." Peter's announcement did not surprise me, of course, but his expression worried me. I said gently, "Chara, it is late and I am tired. Could we seat ourselves to discuss this?" 

Peter unclenched his fists. He nodded, and we sat down by the hearth. I tossed a bit of wood into the fire, mainly as a way to distract Peter's attention. After a while he sighed and said in a more level voice, "The Jackal has trained him well, but he had the misfortune to give the message to one of my spies, who is posing as a Koretian spy. I suppose that, given all of the double treacheries I have my own spies engage in, I should not be surprised to find the Jackal using his ambassador for such purposes." 

"It has happened before." 

"I know that it has. I ought not to have trusted him again." 

"I mean that rulers have used their ambassadors as spies before. There was a case in your father's time where we caught the Daxion ambassador passing on military information to his ruler. Your father decided to keep the ambassador at the palace. I and the other council lords were convinced that the Chara Nicholas had gone mad, but in fact the ambassador helped us come to a fine settlement. Your father always had good instincts about the men he worked with." 

A faint smile drifted over Peter's face. He took a fire-iron and began stabbing at the dying log in the hearth. "Carle, you always surprise me. You have spent most of my life trying to convince me that Andrew is treacherous and unworthy of trust, and when this happens, you fly to his defense." 

"I would not trust Lord Andrew with the smallest matter myself, but I am not you. The only thing I can be sure about the Ambassador is that he is a man of very strange motives. I cannot see him as a simple spy with simple loyalties." 

"Nor can I." Peter poked the log harder. Its blackened wood crumbled, sending golden sparks up the chimney. "I suppose that he believes he is serving his god in some way. Nevertheless, I can't take the chance that my father took; we are too near to war. I am sending Andrew back to Koretia with a polite note to the Jackal, asking him to send me another ambassador who does _not_ know so much about Emorian ways. I hope that this won't give the Jackal an excuse to attack." 

"Have you spoken with the Ambassador yet?" 

"I do not wish to speak to him again. Ever." 

Peter pulled the iron back from the log, and as he did so, the metal rod rubbed against the fire-bed, making a grating noise. The sound was less harsh than that of the Chara's voice. I waited as Peter thumped the iron on the ground to rid it of some bits of ember. He finally said, "Carle, I'm tired of forever having to be rational and dutiful in all that I do. I know that Andrew may continue to be a good ambassador, I know that he may have had some honorable motive for doing this, but I'm too tired to let this influence my decision. I've been sick every night of this week— No, don't ask me about it; I'm not allowing it to affect my work. But it makes me so weary that I don't want to enquire into Andrew's mixed motives for betraying me again. I want him out of this palace, and I want never to see him again, lest he hurt me once more." 

I looked over at Peter. His eyes were, if anything, darker than they had been ten years before. There was a haunted look to them that worried me. I said, "As to this immediate matter, I think that you are right to send Lord Andrew home, but I would not make any hasty decision as to your future dealings with him. As you say, you are tired, and you may see matters in a different light when you have rested." 

"I have made my decision. I want you to tell him." 

I paused for three heartbeats before saying, "Me?" 

"You," he replied firmly. "I told you, I don't wish to see him again. And since that part of it is a private message about our private relationship, I can only entrust it to a friend. I will not allow Lady Ursula to become involved in this matter, so it must be you." 

"He would not take the message well, coming from me, and it is not a message I think you should send." 

"I am the Chara, and it is your duty to obey me!" 

His voice filled the room. I shot a glance at the sleeping chamber, its door closed, and then lowered my eyes hastily. I could hear the Chara breathing heavily beside me. After a moment, keeping my gaze carefully fixed on the tiles, I said, "You are the Chara, and I am your servant. But I am also your High Lord, and it is my duty to advise you in this matter." 

"It is a private matter. It has nothing to do with the council." 

"Then you ought not to be issuing a command to me." 

The ensuing pause lasted so long that I felt obliged finally to look up. Peter was smiling, though his eyes remained somber. "I'm sorry," he said. "I lose my temper so easily these days. You're right; it's not an act I can command of you, but only ask of you. Will you do this for me, for friendship's sake?" 

I took the fire-iron from his hand, and began stabbing at the wood again. A small red glow turned into a flame, and the fire blazed up once more. "If you wish me to, of course. But will you listen to my advice first?" 

"Yes, tutor. Where have I gone wrong in my logic?" 

"Nowhere in logic, only in matters of the heart, where you have far more experience than I do. But even I know better than to let a momentary emotion ruin a relationship that one has taken a lifetime to build. I have no fondness for Lord Andrew; I have witnessed him hurt you too many times over the years. But he obviously gives you some sort of peace that you cannot find elsewhere. This peace makes you a better man, and incidentally a better Chara, though it is your manhood I am concerned with tonight, not your royal duties. If you are indeed suffering from illness, the last thing that would restore your health is the loss of one of your friends." 

Peter bent over the fire, which was now sending up flames. The fire reflected upon his eyes, turning them warm with golden light. "I would be foolish indeed to ignore what you say, if you of all people think I should remain friends with Andrew. Very well. Tell him only that I wish him to prepare for his departure tomorrow." 

"It would be better for you to tell him this yourself." 

"I'm still angry; I might say something I regretted later. There will be time enough for me to write to him in the coming weeks." 

He was already smiling in the relaxed manner he always did when speaking of Andrew. I let the iron down with a thump, and as Peter rose, I stood and bowed. "I will give the Ambassador your message, Chara." 

"Carle, when are you going to call me by my name? Even Andrew managed the transition, and he was my slave." 

"Lord Andrew has certain talents that I do not. He always will." 

"Yes." Peter's look was far away. Then he recalled himself and added, "Come and tell me later what he says, if you aren't too tired." 

"Whatever the Chara wishes, I will do." 

o—o—o

The trumpets had called the midpoint of the night by now, but I found that the Ambassador was not in his quarters. I supposed that he was engaging in more spying. If Andrew had been any other man, Peter would have known what he was doing long before this. I knew that it was this that Peter blamed himself most for: that he had allowed his friendship to blind him to his duty. 

Even without a special watch, though, it is not hard to trace the movements of anyone in the palace. I found Andrew finally, though not in the place I would have chosen for such an encounter. 

The inner garden was deserted at that hour, except for the guards standing next to the passage that leads to the rear of the Chara's quarters. They pointed to the figure standing motionless next to the single tree in the garden. I might have guessed that he would be there. It was a Koretian tree, planted by Peter as a present for Andrew, who had been inclined to make slighting remarks about the absence of forests in Emor. I was not averse myself to the sight of a tree, but this particular tree had given endless trouble to the gardener, first developing a disease that threatened to spread to the bushes, then dropping its limbs on passersby. Peter resolutely refused to have the tree chopped down. 

I made my way across the grass. In the December moonlight I could see the twigs and could avoid stepping on them. Something, though, must have snapped as I walked. I was two arms' length from Andrew when he whirled, dagger in hand. 

His blade was back in its sheath before I had time to grasp that it was out. "My apologies, Lord Carle," he said in an easy manner, as though this was an event that occurred frequently. I could well imagine that in Koretia it did. "You startled me when I had my thoughts on other times." 

I did not think it would be wise to enquire whether those other times included an earlier encounter between us in the garden. I said, "You are lucky that I did not have my sword with me, or we might have been fighting before either of us realized what was happening." 

My reply was meant as a warning, but Andrew did not respond in kind, merely saying, "I think that I would take my dagger to myself rather than face the Chara after such an occurrence. What may I do for you?" 

I handed him his letter. He glanced at it for barely a second before handing it back silently. 

"You do not seem very surprised," I commented. 

"One of the hazards I have come to expect as a spy, Lord Carle," he said dispassionately. "I was nearly hanged in Daxis when my cover as a trader was exposed." 

I scrutinized his face. After a moment, he moved further back, where I could not see his eyes in the dark. I said, "I thought you had been vague when you described your work to Lord James. Is this something you do all of the time?" 

"I'm a jack-of-all-trades; I do whatever is required of me. But I was trained by the Jackal, who is voice for the thief god. I would not want to have my education as a thief go to waste." 

His voice was a bit too measured. Having lost sight of his eyes, I found that I was now reading the tone of his words. Some deception lay there, I believed; I set out to uncover it. "With so much experience in these matters, it puzzles me that you allowed your report to fall into the wrong hands." 

"These things happen to the best of us." 

The reply was too quick; I was sure of myself now. I let the smile creep onto my face and had the pleasure of watching Andrew stiffen. Too much had passed between us for him to be able to lose all fear of me. Not knowing what I had discovered until the words were out, I said, "I was also puzzled by the contents of your letter to the Jackal. I doubt that the Chara noticed this – he was too busy cursing your name when I left him – but the letter was oddly lacking in information that would actually have helped the Jackal. All that you seemed to be reporting was that Emor's army is strong, something which the Jackal already knows. Is it possible that the letter you wrote was intended only for the Chara's eyes?" 

Andrew said softly, "If it were, would you know why?" 

"Ambassador, I confess freely that your motives for doing such a thing are a riddle to me. But you have an uncanny tendency to be honest about what you are going to do. As I recall, your first words to me were that you intended to kill the Chara, not the wisest announcement for a planned assassin to make to a council lord. I was hoping that you would be similarly blunt tonight and share with me your real plans." 

He was silent for a long time. His right hand was hanging loose, close to his dagger, and I began to wonder whether I had been wise to bring accusations against an armed spy who had no allegiance to any real master and therefore could choose for himself what to do. Then Andrew said, still calmly, "Lord Carle, you have grown, if anything, more formidable over the years. If you were my enemy, I think that my enterprise would fail. Whether you realize it or not, though, we are on the same side in this matter, and you may be the only one in this palace who could understand why. Under ordinary circumstances, the Chara would understand, but his mood has been so uncertain during the past few weeks that I dared not approach him openly with what I had to tell him." 

"So the letter was indeed for him?" 

"The letter was for both him and the Jackal; I sent a second copy that will not fall into the Chara's hands. You are wrong when you say that the Jackal knows that Emor is strong. The precise problem is that he does not know this, any more than the Chara knows that Koretia is strong. In both cases, the fault lies with me." 

I leaned back against the trunk of the tree and folded my arms. "It always pleases me to see you take blame for something you have done, Lord Andrew. It is a trait you did not possess as a child. Nonetheless, I am not sure that I understand you." 

"Through me, the Jackal and the Chara came to a peace settlement ten years ago, a settlement that required both men to show mercy toward the other. This was what was needed at the time, but the unfortunate consequence of it is that neither ruler sees the other as a threat now. The Jackal is convinced that Koretia could easily win a war against Emor; the Chara is convinced of the reverse. Ten years ago, the god asked me to bring peace through trust, but this time he has commanded me to bring peace through fear. Hence the letter." 

"I see," I said slowly. "So the Jackal receives a letter that warns him not to attack Emor, while the Chara learns from your act of spying that the Jackal is serious in his warlike intentions. You are playing a tricky game of double espionage, Ambassador. I hope you do not find that your letter brings war, not peace." 

"I hope so too. I am particularly worried about how the Chara will react to my report. I am finding it hard to predict what he will do these days." 

"Oh, I doubt that he will use this as an excuse for war. I think that I might be more impressed with your efforts, however, if you had had less concern over how the Chara would react to your spying and more concern over how your friend would react to a second betrayal." 

This time the silence lasted even longer. Then Andrew knelt down and began to touch a few late-autumn leaves that remained on the ground. I knew this movement; I had touched bone with my blade. 

I waited to see whether he would reply. When he did not, I continued relentlessly, "I remember the Chara telling me one time that your god cares nothing for blood brothers. I suppose that by the same token he cares nothing for wine-friends. I am pleased to see that you have acquired a sense of duty and loyalty toward something, even if your master is a god whose existence is questionable. But perhaps you should have chosen a god who understands the duties of friendship." 

Andrew crumpled the wrinkled, brown leaf in his hand, and it scattered like dust in the late-night breeze. "I am surprised to hear you say this, Lord Carle. It is you who first lectured me on the need to put duty before friendship." 

"If your god requires you to betray the Chara on a periodic basis, then perhaps you should decide which is more important to you. I am tired of binding the Chara's wounds every time that you stab him with your treachery." 

He rose then, very slowly, and for a moment he was still. Then he whipped out his dagger once more, and this time threw it in one swift motion. It landed on the tree trunk, a short distance from my face. 

It is easy to be stoic after an event; I had barely known what was happening until it was over. I said coolly, "Are you trying to frighten me, Ambassador?" 

"No, I am following the advice of the Chara, who warned me never to carry a weapon when I was angry. My aim was poor; I apologize for startling you. Now that we are both unarmed, though, perhaps it is time for me to say that I think the wounds I cause the Chara are less likely to harm him than the slow death you are inflicting upon him." 

I stepped away from the trunk, not wishing to have Andrew's blade within sight. "That is a wonderfully cryptic accusation, Lord Andrew. No doubt you will explain it in due time." 

"It is not an accusation; it is an observation. The Chara said the other day that you are still his tutor. This I had already guessed. You had much influence over him when I lived in the palace, and I might have known that you would take advantage of my absence to continue your tutoring. Even so, I was surprised to discover how thoroughly you have taught the Chara to hate." 

I thought back to my previous conversation with Peter, and the trouble I had taken to keep him friends with Andrew. The irony of this brought a smile to my face. "Lord Andrew, I need hardly teach the Chara how to hate you. He has learned this on his own, from that which you have done to him." 

"Has he? When we last met ten years ago, he apologized to me – to _me_ – for his behavior after I betrayed him to the Jackal. He said was sorry he had hurt me. Yet since I arrived back, he has taken numerous opportunities to remind me of what I did to him. This is not the Peter I knew. The only time I ever saw him act this way was during one terrible interview I had with him while he was imprisoned by the Jackal. He spoke to me then with your words, and he smiled at me with your smile. It shocked me then, but it would not surprise me if I saw him smiling that smile again. You have taught him too well." 

Andrew's voice had risen. I found mine rising as well upon reply. "Which of us has taught him hatred, Andrew? You, who delivered him to what might have been his death, or I, who have stood by him with loyalty for all these years? You are driving him faster to an early grave every time you turn against him in the name of your imaginary god. My love for the Chara is the same as my duty; I could almost pity you, whose duty continually clashes with your love." 

"Carle, my pity lies with you, for thinking that your love can wipe away the danger you present by your very existence!" He was now shouting. I was thankful that Andrew had discarded the dagger, and I took care to stay out of his fists' reach. "You may think that you can help the Chara, but your viciousness and sadism is destroying all that is best in him!" 

"It is you who will destroy him in the end—!" 

A cold, quiet voice said, "You will both destroy me if you do not lower your voices. Half the palace is listening to your conversation." 

When I was younger, I had once thrown a bucket of cold water on two dogs who were attacking each other. I imagine that their expressions must have been matched by those of Andrew and me as we turned to look at the Chara. He was dressed only in his usual plain tunic, but he might as well have been wearing the clothes of the Chara in judgment as his gaze bored down upon the Ambassador and me. Behind him I could see that most of the windows in the walls facing the inner garden were now lit up. The Chara had not been exaggerating. 

The Chara strode toward me finally. If he had been an ax-man, and I the garden tree that he had come to cut, I could not have stood more rooted. But he walked past me, jerked the dagger out of the trunk where it still hung, and walked over to stand close to Andrew. 

They call me a hard disciplinarian. All I can say is that I felt like a novice watching a skilled master when I saw the look that Peter gave Andrew. 

Andrew, having undergone this experience with the Chara before, no doubt knew better than to try to meet Peter on equal ground. His eyes were already lowered before the Chara reached him. The Chara said coldly, "Did Lord Carle convey to you my message concerning your departure, Ambassador?" 

"No, Chara." 

"You are to leave this land tomorrow. I will have a letter sent to your quarters that I wish you to convey to the Jackal. In the meantime, you are to _stay_ in your quarters. I will send soldiers to escort you to the border." He held out the dagger, hilt first. 

Andrew sheathed the dagger without a word, his eyes still lowered. He took a step away, and the Chara turned from him; thus Peter never saw the moment when Andrew gave me one final, venomous look. 

I barely noticed Andrew depart. I was trapped like a bird who has encountered a snake, too paralyzed even to dip my eyes in time. The Chara said, his voice smooth like ice, "I would have thought that I could depend on my High Lord to deliver a one-sentence message. It appears, though, that my expectations for you have been too high. If this is what you consider loyalty to me, then I suggest that it is time for you to take a short leave of absence from your duties and contemplate the meaning of obedience. You will find the word mentioned several times in the law volume covering the crimes punished by the high doom." His eyes flickered with amusement as he added, "I will ask Lord James to take over your duties while you are gone. If you have any questions concerning the law, you may address them to him." 

This last announcement was too much for me. I choked out, "Chara, you cannot—" 

"I can do a great deal more than I have done in the past, Lord Carle." The Chara's voice grew soft. "Ten years of reading law books taught me more about the nature of vengeance than even you have guessed. It would not be wise for you to put me in a position where I would have to demonstrate to you what I have learned. . . . Now get out of my sight, and stay out of it, preferably for a week or more. I am tired of having you, and everyone else I know, turn against me." 

I left, walking blindly until I reached the first passage I could find that would lead me out of the Chara's vengeful sight. 

o—o—o

I stood some time in the night-black passage, steadying my breath and collecting my thoughts. What finally brought me back to myself was a soft, arrhythmic sound I could not quite identify. It was coming from the other end of the passage, beyond the door that led somewhere back into the palace. I went up to the doorway, tried without success to guess at the nature of the sound, and swung open the door. 

I was standing in the Chara's sleeping chamber. The sound I had heard was coming from Ursula, who was kneeling on the floor next to her bed, sobbing her life away. 

She looked around as I entered, and we stared at each other for a moment. During the past month, I had fallen into the habit of visiting her every few nights or so, when her husband was busy with his work. Always she had greeted my entrance with a smile, and we had talked cheerfully of my past professions or of her childhood in Koretia. Now her eyes were red and her face streaked with tears; her hair lay limp, damp with sweat. After a moment she raised the back of her hand and rubbed it against her nose. At this slight movement I recollected myself and took a step backwards. "Lady Ursula, I ought not—" 

"Please don't go." Her voice was quiet, but there was a note of desperation to it that I had never heard before. "I can't— I can't stand to be by myself any more." 

I looked at her a while longer. Her arms were still folded against the bed where she had been cradling her head a moment before. Suddenly the scene shifted, overlaid by an older scene, and I knew what I must do next. 

I closed the door, came over, and seated myself on the floor by her side. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning." 

She sniffed, reaching for an already soggy face-cloth. "How can I start that far back? It would take too long to narrate ten years." 

I was silent a moment before I said, "Start at the end, then. Did you and the Chara have a fight?" 

She nodded, making a futile attempt to wipe the dampness from her face. "I heard him shouting at you in the sitting chamber. I came out after you had left and asked him what was wrong. He said that it was not my business to know – that it was a matter between him and his friend. I said that if he was shouting at you, then I ought to know what the problem was, for I was his wife. Then—" She had managed to clean part of her face dry, but now this patch was marred by new tears. "He started ranting about how all of his subjects tried to enter into territories where they didn't belong – something about the Chara and his council, and also something about the subcommander. I didn't understand what he meant. He said that everyone was trying to betray him, that Andrew had betrayed him again, and that I was Andrew's sister and was just the same." 

I felt a chill go through me, and I tried to thrust aside in my mind a conversation I had once held with James about the Charas and their need to keep the balance of judgment. Peter would have to be dealt with presently; my immediate task was to help his wife. 

"Lady Ursula," I said gently, "you know that your husband has been sick recently. These sorts of statements are made by men who struggle with illness." 

"I know," Ursula said, her voice breaking on a sob. "But it isn't just that. There have been problems the whole time that we've been married. Serious problems." 

Since my arrival at the palace, I had never become well acquainted with any free-woman, but I had often listened to the domestic problems of slave-women, and I knew what even good husbands are capable of doing. I asked dispassionately, "Does he beat you?" 

She stared at me wide-eyed before shaking her head. "It would almost be easier for me if he did," she said in a weary voice. "At least it would show that he knew I was there. Most of the time I think he forgets about me." 

"Lady Ursula, please do not exaggerate." Without thinking about it, I found myself slipping back into my tutorial voice. 

Ursula did not seem offended. She smiled faintly as she said, "I know that it seems wild – I wouldn't have believed it myself when I first came here. The trouble is that we have nothing to say to each other. Peter comes home every night and refuses to talk about his work, and since he has been doing nothing all day _except_ work, he has nothing to say to me." 

"It is a matter of the law," I explained patiently. "The law forbids the Chara from revealing secret high matters to his Consort. At times like the present, when he is dealing with the Koretian crisis, that no doubt leaves him with very little to talk to you about. But I am sure that he would be interested in hearing about your day." 

"What can I tell him, Carle? I do nothing the entire day. Before I came to Koretia I was a thief for the Jackal; I slipped out at night and gathered information and spied on people and even took part in some thefts. During the daytime, I took care of the house for John and me. Here there are slave-servants to care for the quarters, and nothing for me to do, night or day." 

"There is much to look at in the palace—" 

"Peter doesn't like me to leave the quarters. He says that it isn't proper for me to wander the corridors aimlessly, that people would think the Chara leads a life of leisure. He says I should have friends come to see me, but I have no friends here. Almost no free-women live in the palace, and Peter says that I can't have men visit me unless they are also his friends . . . but he never lets me see his friends when they come. He says that he might talk about his work with them, and I mustn't listen in on such conversations." 

Instinctively, my head swerved toward the door through which I had just come, half expecting Peter to enter. Ursula saw my glance and said, "He won't be back; he hasn't slept here for weeks. He is always in the Map Room. The only time I see him these days is in the brief interval late at night between the time he returns to his quarters and the time that his friends come by. And when he is here he says nothing to me. I feel as though he doesn't know I'm here." 

I felt that I must make some comment, so I murmured, "It is easy for men to become occupied with their work." 

"But he said that he wanted to marry me so that he could have someone to talk to about things other than work! He said that he'd always been able to talk that way with Andrew, to forget about being the Chara, and that he was sure it would be the same with me. Then, a couple of years after we married, he said it was different with me because I'm a woman." 

"Ursula . . ." I barely noticed that I had dropped her title, so intent was I on phrasing my next remark in such a way that I would not reveal a confidence. "Your husband may find it harder to associate with women than with men. This sort of thing happens to many of us. Some men have experiences that make it hard for them to share with women—" I hesitated, not sure how to go on. 

"I know about that," Ursula replied calmly. "Peter told me about that when we met, about the slave-girl and the son who died. He spoke of that in our first private conversation; his confession was one of the things which convinced both of us that we were meant for each other. But he hasn't spoken to me like that for years." 

I looked beyond her to the western window. The moon was beginning to set; in another two hours, the first hint of dawn would arrive. I thought for a moment that I must get some rest before I started on my duties for the day . . . then I remembered that I had no duties that day, nor for the rest of the week. Like Ursula, my life was presently aimless and empty. 

"All day ahead, with nothing to do." 

I did not realize I had spoken until Ursula nodded, dipping her eyes. "Sometimes I feel as though I have been a prisoner in these quarters for the past ten years." 

I felt a shock go through me as another memory slammed down into place. When I had recovered my breath, I said, "What you need is a break. You need to get away from your normal life for a while." 

"I asked Peter whether I might visit the countryside," Ursula said wistfully. "I know that he doesn't want me to go out on the palace grounds, to be seen close up by the common folk. He says it would destroy the mystery attached to the Chara. But I thought it would be nice to ride around the countryside, the way I used to ride with John." 

"He wouldn't let you?" I said. 

Ursula shook her head. "He says that the Chara cannot leave the palace, and therefore his Consort cannot." 

"He is wrong about that," I said firmly. "The Law of the High Judge, which outlines the Chara's duties, specifically states that the Chara may leave the palace if his Consort's life or honor is threatened elsewhere in the land. It is therefore clear that the law allows the Consort to leave the palace. In fact, your husband's mother left the palace on many occasions after her marriage. I can talk to the Chara about this." 

"It won't make any difference," Ursula said with a sigh. "He won't listen to reason at the moment. He's convinced that everyone is against him, and that we're all conspiring to bring about his downfall. If the gods themselves were to appear before him, he wouldn't listen." 

"Perhaps Lord Andrew—" 

"I don't know Andrew well enough to explain all this to him. I've tried to get to know him on this visit, and I know that he wants to get to know me, but he is busy with his ambassadorial work all the time. Everyone is busy with something." 

The decision suddenly lay before me, clear-cut and stark, like a court case in which the witnesses agree. I could leave Ursula here and go to Peter, and thereupon start the slow process of restoring his judgment. Or I could deal first with Ursula, and then turn my attention to Peter. 

In fact, there was no decision for me to make, any more than there had been a decision whether to help Peter when he was fifteen and about to lose control of himself because he could no longer stand his life. 

"This is what I think we should do," I said resolutely to Ursula. "I think that you and I should go out into the countryside today to clear your mind of all your troubles." 

"Peter would never allow it." 

"The Chara need not know, not yet. We can explain all this to him when we return. With the deed done, I'm sure he will be willing to look at the matter with clear eyes. If, as you say, he does not come to his quarters until late at night, he will not notice your absence in the meantime." 

"He'll notice if the guards tell him," Ursula said doubtfully. 

"Why should they tell him? You have two sets of guards; are there not occasions when you go out one entrance to your quarters and return by the other?" Ursula nodded. "Well, then, we need only worry about the palace guards, and this late at night they will not be checking a free-woman who is well-cloaked, who leaves calmly by the main entrance, and who does not meet with anyone until she is beyond the east palace gate – where I will be waiting with two horses that can swiftly take us to the countryside. How does that sound?" 

As I spoke, Ursula's expression grew lighter and lighter until, at the end, she once more looked merry and bright. "It sounds just like being a Jackal's thief again," she said with a laugh. "I can do all that; John showed me how. And you're right. If Peter were feeling better, he would know that this was something I had to do, so I won't feel guilty about keeping a secret from him for a few hours. Thank you!" And she suddenly flung her arms around me. 

I carefully unwrapped her from me, surprised to find that I was not embarrassed by her action. "I'll leave by the garden passage, and you leave by the corridor door, and we'll meet at the gate in one hour's time. Agreed?" 

Ursula was still beaming. "This is the most fun I will have had since I came to Emor."


	14. Cases | 2

**CHAPTER TWO**   
**986 a.g.l.**   


> _Perhaps the saddest lesson to be learned from the Cases is that, once enough of the early stages of a crime have been committed, it is extremely difficult for a man to then keep himself from completing the crime. As an example, someone who has allowed himself to indulge in an unreasoning hatred of another man, who has sought out that other man while armed, and who then instigates a fight with that man, may find that he does not have enough strength left to keep himself from committing murder. Even so, it cannot be argued, as it is sometimes argued by prisoners, that a man has no choice left in the final moments before the commission of his crime._

  
o—o—o

The mountainside was still: the birds had long since fled south to Koretia and Daxis, and the wild beasts were in hibernation, not yet awakened by the brief spell of warmth. The only sound, as we worked our way up the narrow dirt path, was the lowing of cattle that had been let out to graze, and the trickle of water somewhere above us. 

I stopped to give Ursula a hand as we scrambled over a particularly tricky part of the rock-strewn path – a courtesy only, as she seemed as light on her feet as a goat and could probably have qualified for my old mountain patrol unit. As I assisted her, I asked, "So how long did you live in the priests' house?" 

"Until I came of age when I was thirteen; then I went to live with John in the city, and a year later I met Peter and came here." She stopped in the path to allow me to catch up, as I was burdened with carrying our two cloaks. I had felt the need to be cautious, as the first snowstorm of the season can come on suddenly, and such a storm was overdue. But I found myself sweating during what felt like a warm autumn day rather than the final month of the year. 

Even in this mild weather, Ursula was shivering slightly, but she had taken off her cloak when it began to hamper her climb. Now she said, "I hated it in the priests' house; I never had much chance to see the people I liked. Of course, Brendon visited me whenever he could, as well as John, though he was often busy with his work as the Jackal. And sometimes the healing women allowed me to go over to the men's side of the house to see Perry." 

"Perry?" My mind was less on what she was saying than on reflecting, not for the first time, that Ursula's concept of loyalty was in stark contrast to that of her brother. We had been close to war with Koretia for many months now, and Ursula's stories about Koretia made clear her love for her native land and for its ruler who had raised her. Yet never once had she shown any indication that she had wavered in her loyalty oath to the Chara. 

"Perry is John's closest friend. Didn't Andrew tell you about him?" 

I did not say, as I might have said on other occasions, that Andrew never gave out information unless it would profit him. Such a remark seemed petty here amidst the crisp breezes of the countryside. In any case, my eye was searching the mountainside above us for a rock that jutted out from the slope. "I thought that your brother was the Jackal's closest friend," I said. 

"They both are, I suppose." Ursula was absorbed in her thoughts and did not notice as I took her hand to lead her onto the damp, grassy slope. "When Andrew reappeared in Koretia after all those years, Perry was terribly jealous. I think he believed that Andrew was going to steal John away from him." 

"And did he?" I asked absently. 

"Why should he? John can have more than one close friend. —Where are we going?" 

"Up here, if you can manage it." I pointed at the formidably steep rock ahead of us. 

Ursula stood still a minute, assessing it, before saying, "I'll need your help." 

"By the law-structure, I should hope so. I don't want to feel completely useless on this expedition." As Ursula laughed, I twisted the cloaks into a back-sling such as I used to carry as a soldier; then I began to scramble up the face of the rock, finding with memory's ease the old handholds and foot ledges. I stopped halfway to reach down and pull Ursula past the steep point, and then continued on my way, knowing, without looking back, that she could find the rest of her way herself. Like me, she had grown up on a mountain. 

I wanted to be the first one there so that I could see her expression when she came over the ridge. There was a delay as Ursula dusted off the rock-dust from her front. Then she looked ahead, and I had the privilege of seeing the restless Consort absolutely motionless for once. "Trees," she whispered. 

I followed her gaze. The top of the mountain formed a hollow, so that observers on the surrounding ridge could see the entire village below: the fields now brown with winter's sleep, the cluster of stone houses along the single road leading south, the larger house set off to the east side of the village, and last of all, surrounded by a stone wall, the neat rows of cold-shorn apple trees. 

"Trees!" This time Ursula's voice was filled with glee rather than awe, and she began running down the ridge toward the orchard. I followed more slowly, my eye on the woman ahead of me. She scrambled easily over the wall, having changed that morning into a thigh-high tunic I had only seen Daxion slave-women wear, but which Ursula assured me was the outfit that all of the Jackal's female thieves had worn when they did their night work during the rebellion. Fortunately, her cloak had covered this immodest outfit while we were travelling, and now there was no one to see it but an elderly council lord. 

By the time I joined her, she was using one hand to swing around the trunk of one of the trees. She stopped only to say, "I never thought that I would see a grove of trees again; I thought such things didn't exist in Emor. No wonder you hired those men to bring our horses up to your house so that we could arrive by the side path. This is a wonderful surprise." 

"A foolish fancy of mine, I fear." I moved out of the way as she brushed against a branch. A score of droplets flung themselves from the tree; it had rained earlier that day. "Even if the horses have arrived by now – I hope that they have, since we are close to sunset – we will still have to ride hard to make it back to the palace before you are missed." 

"Perhaps we should just spend the night hiding amidst the trees," said Ursula with a cheerful grin. "I did that a couple of times when I was young: I ran away from the priests' house and hid on the mountain. I hated being cooped inside that prison all of the time, unable to go anywhere. Brendon once told me that, when I grew up, I should marry a sailor or soldier or trader – someone who travelled a lot." 

She swung around the trunk again and stared up at the dark skeleton of the branches. "God of Mercy, I'm glad that no one told me before I moved to Emor that I would have to give up trees. I'm not sure how I could have borne the news. I remember that, during the first winter I was here, Peter came across me tossing a gigantic pile of wood on the fire in my efforts to keep warm. I learned most of the Emorian curses that day. I hadn't realized that wood is so expensive here." 

"It's a nobleman's luxury," I replied, "and, I must confess, a luxury in which I indulge myself frequently, since I too grew up surrounded by trees. My fondest childhood memories are of the nights when my father would bring out of storage the branches we had pruned and gathered during the previous seasons, in order to use them as kindling for our fires. When I became a council lord and discovered how large my salary would be, I resolved to allow myself two luxuries: books and hearth-fires." 

Ursula smiled and tilted her head to one side. "I suppose that if I had the money, I would plant two dozen more trees in the inner garden. And then, whenever I grew tired of being a Consort, I'd hide in the trees, and nobody would be able to find me." 

"The Chara would send his spies, and they would find you." As I spoke, I leaned back against the trunk of a tree and folding my arms. 

"Oh, would they?" said Ursula, pretending to be angry. 

"They would," I said firmly. "Not even one of the Jackal's thieves can outwit one of the Chara's spies." 

A smile crept up the side of Ursula's face. "Count the alphabet to yourself. Then come looking for me." 

I pulled out my sword, saluted her as though she were an enemy on the field, sheathed my blade, and closed my eyes. There was a swish of her footsteps, and then nothing. 

It was in the coal-black border mountains between Emor and Koretia that I had first learned to depend more on my ears than upon my eyes; I was initially assigned to the night patrol. Now, with my eyes dutifully closed, I did my best to detect the sound of Ursula behind me, but I was frustrated by a northern wind that had just blown up and was carrying all sounds to the south. Having counted the alphabet in Emorian – and, for good measure, in Koretian and Daxion, the latter of which required me to sing softly under my breath – I turned around to the south and looked to see what I could find. 

My village is built atop one of a handful of small mountains – high hills, if I wish to be truthful – that are set in the central portion of Southern Emor. From the foot of these mountains to the border mountains, the land curves in low hills. Thus I could see easily from my vantage the high hilltop perch of the Chara's palace. I turned my eyes quickly away from that building and stared at the landscape before me. Nothing was there – except, of course, the unmistakable mark of Ursula's footprints in the damp grass. Smiling to myself, I followed the indentations that wove among the trees, doubled back on themselves, and occasionally stopped altogether, only to begin again a short distance away. Eventually, this led me beyond the orchard to the pond. 

This was not one of my childhood sites. My orchard-keeper had blocked up a stream some years before in order to collect a pool of water, his motivation for this work being a lightning fire that destroyed a quarter of the orchard before we were able to contain it with water rushed from the village well. The pond looked like a small sea now, its surface furrowed in ragged waves by the wind. Its surface mirrored azure except for the froth of the waves, which shone clear like diamonds. The water looked very cold. 

I noted this last fact because Ursula's footsteps went straight to the shoreline. After a moment's thought, I began pacing my way around the edge of the pond. 

I was breaking one of the first rules of hunting I had ever learned: never take shortcuts. Never try to follow the hunted by an easier path than he has taken, for the harder path is the one that will provide him with a way to escape your eye. This rule, I reminded myself as I dug amidst the muddy reeds to look for footprints, was certainly one that the Jackal would have taught his thieves. I was bringing shame upon the Chara for my slovenly work. 

Halfway round the second time, I stopped to consider a rock and a tree. Both were near the pond, providing a seat and shade for those who, unlike myself, had nothing better to do than spend hours dreamily looking at the water. I would have immediately suspected the rock as Ursula's next destination, except for the fact that I knew that the pond floor dipped down sharply after the bank. It was hard for me to see how, wading through waist-high water, Ursula could then leap over the gap to the knee-high rock, all without creating any mark on the muddy shore. 

Well, there was only one way to find out. Uttering a silent hope that the Jackal's thief was not watching me from some hidden spot, I pulled up the lower half of my tunic just long enough to untie my winter breeches, and then pulled the breeches off. I tied them into my back-sling before wading into the water. 

The boulder was hidden under the waves that had presumably not yet arisen when Ursula passed this way – unless Ursula was receiving secret instructions from her god, the Jackal, which would certainly explain how the Koretian ruler had kept his rebellion going for so long. I stepped up onto the boulder, which raised me nearly to the surface. Looking back at the shore, I realized that I had been wrong about the rock. The tree had been Ursula's destination: one of its limbs was within reach of anyone reckless enough to jump over the water. 

I just made it. It was not the leap that caused me the problem, but the tree's inability to take my heavier weight. I dropped to the ground before the limb could break, and then let my eye wander over the branches. There, on the other side of the tree, was where Ursula had gone next, dropping onto the stone wall that encircled my land. 

A bit of mud lying atop the wall confirmed my suspicion. Seemingly Ursula had removed her shoes afterwards, for the wall held no other mark of her presence. To the east of the wall was a graveyard; I did not think that Ursula would have trespassed there. So I remained on the western side of the wall, looking at the trees nearby. None of them were close enough for Ursula to have leapt onto them; therefore her tracks must lie somewhere next to the wall. 

I began to start forward, and then looked toward my right once more. The sun was near the horizon; in this dim light, I would not get a second chance. Sighing, I pulled myself up onto the wall and began following the treacherous path that Ursula had taken. 

I managed to keep myself from losing my balance – and incidentally made note of which stones were in need of being better secured along the wall – long enough to reach the point where Ursula had leapt off of the enclosure. I would have missed it if I had tried to sight it while walking next to the wall: it was a flat stone hidden amidst the grass, just the place for her to land without making any footprints. 

I barely needed to follow her track after that: I knew where she was headed. Winding my way slowly through the dusk-black shadows of the trees, I walked toward the hut in the center of the orchard. My orchard-keeper slept here during picking season; the villagers were honest, but he did not want to put temptation in the way of their children. As I dimly sighted the rocky facade through the trees, I spurted suddenly forward, curved round to the opposite side of the hut, and caught Ursula as she was jumping out of the back window. 

She did not resist me as I took hold of her and, with a grim look on my face, guided my captive around to the door and into the hut. By the time I released her, she was laughing. "I surrender, Chara's spy," she said. "You're too good a hunter for me." 

I bowed to her. "I offer you my compliments, Jackal's thief. It was an enjoyable chase – however," I added reflectively as I looked over her damp, shivering body, "perhaps not a sensible one. You're likely to get chill-fever in this state. Wait a moment—" 

I hastily untangled the cloaks that I was still carrying, dropped both of them onto Ursula's shoulders, and then, for good measure, added the blanket from my orchard-keeper's sleeping pallet. This done, I went and knelt next to a large trunk nearby. It was locked, of course. 

I looked up at Ursula, who was standing over me, hidden in the blankets but still shivering. "Are you carrying any sort of pin on you?" I asked. "A brooch pin or something of that sort would do." 

Without a word, Ursula reached her hand up to the top of her hair and pulled out the gold hairpin that was there. Her ebony hair tumbled to her waist. Taking the pin from her, I explored the lock for a minute, more from touch than from sound, for the wind was now wailing through the trees around us. 

"You do that almost as well as Andrew," said Ursula as the lock gave way. "The day before Peter and I left for Emor, we watched the Jackal show Andrew how to pick a lock. John said that Andrew had a real talent for it." 

For the second time, I suppressed one of my standard responses to any mention of Andrew; I was busy pulling wood out of the trunk. The logs and branches were from one of the older trees which had fallen in a storm that autumn. I had received news of this during the previous month and had been debating whether to sell the wood or use it for one of my own fires. Now the question was answered for me. 

Ursula helped me to empty the trunk; there was quite a lot of firewood in it, but I was in the mood for a celebration. We placed the timber beneath the small smoke-hole in the roof I could not fully see because the hut had grown so dark. Another minute was spent searching the darkened hut for the flint; then I used the edge of my blade to create the spark. It took only one try to light the fire. 

This done, I laid my sword down by the door; to honor the Chara's Consort – and to protect her, should need arise – I had armed myself and changed into my formal clothes before this journey. I stood a minute more at the doorway, staring at the sky through the trees. At the edge of the horizon I could see black clouds hurrying toward us. 

I did not realize that my thoughts were manifesting themselves in speech until Ursula came over to my side and said serenely, "That's a curse I haven't heard before. What is it directed at?" 

Discarding my immediate impulse to apologize – it was obvious that Ursula was not offended by my language – I said, "Snow is headed our way. We dare not start back to the palace now; the combination of snow and night would defeat us. We will have to stay at my house overnight, and then return in the morning." 

We were silent for a while as we stood in the doorway, the wind buffeting us with its hand. "I can't say that I'm entirely sorry," said Ursula finally. "Not when I think of what we will face when we return. I don't mind the thought of having another few hours of freedom." 

Under the force of the chilly wind, she had begun to shiver once more. I quickly shut the door, went to the other side of the hut, and slid the window shutter closed. Then I took up an iron pruning hook from the wall and began prodding the lethargic fire. 

So successful was I that I was forced to step back after a moment to avoid being scorched by the blaze. A hasty look around the hut revealed to me that there was little danger of the fire spreading: aside from pruning tools and axes, the hut contained only the pallet and trunk, as well as a flask that had been left behind in one of the corners. I picked this up, opened it, sniffed the contents, and brought it over to the fire where Ursula was sitting, her face already turning pink in the heat. 

I handed her the cider and sat down beside her, saying, "This reminds me of the bonfires at the Chara's enthronement." 

"It reminds me of the bonfire on the night that the Jackal first came to his palace. Do you remember that?" 

"That night is marked clearly in my mind," I said, looking beyond the fire to the darkness that had pervaded the room. Then I caught Ursula's eye on me, and a smile leapt onto both our faces at the same time. 

Ursula took a sip of the cider and handed the flask back to me. "That seems a long time ago. It's strange how fires have a way of bringing back memories. I remember sitting round a fire like this after John came back from a trip to Daxis – that was a year before you and Peter and Andrew came to Koretia, just after I became a thief. The Jackal had made his lair far out in the countryside that night, so it was safe for us to build a fire. Poor John was in a very dark mood. He sang to us a song he had learned during his visit to Daxis, about a god-man who disobeyed the orders of the god and had his powers taken from him." 

I had been staring down at the cider, trying to decide whether to hand the flask back to Ursula or to share the wine she had offered me. The flames before me began slowly to illuminate a darkness inside me. Unwillingly, reluctantly, I felt myself being drawn back to a place which I had long since abandoned and where I had expected never to return. With my spirit still trapped in this struggle, I absentmindedly drank from the flask, and then held it closer to the fire in order to warm the liquid inside. "I'm afraid that I don't understand. I assume by the god-man you must mean the Jackal, but how is he capable of disobeying the gods if he claims to be one himself?" 

"Well, he is a man also," said Ursula, shrugging herself out of the blanket and cloaks, for her fire-warmed skin was now glowing with sweat. "When he uses the god's powers, his will is that of the god, but he can make decisions as a man that go against the will of the god. He's like the Chara." 

I pulled the cider back from the flames. "The Chara is not a god-man." 

Ursula screwed up her face, and I immediately recognized the look. It was the expression Peter used to take on when he was having to translate a particularly tricky passage from Archaic Emorian into Modern Emorian. "He's sort of like one, if you think about it," she said. "The Chara embodies the law, just as the Jackal embodies the god. But because they're also men, both the Chara and the Jackal are capable of making mistakes in their judgments." 

"So the Jackal admits to having made mistakes?" I said. The brief struggle within my spirit had ended. I laid down my arms quietly and offered forward my peace oath. The cider was beginning to warm the chill which I had felt in the wind. With my body glowing warm now like a bright, lively ember, I uttered my question to Ursula with no sharpness. 

"Of _course_ ," said Ursula. "He has made sheaves'-full of mistakes over the years. That's why he turned to Andrew for advice on whether to free the Chara ten years ago. He didn't trust his own ability to judge the matter. John always knew that he would make mistakes; it was the idea of deliberately going against the will of the god that disturbed him." Ursula reached over and took the cider from me. "He was in so somber a mood that night that I encouraged him to sing the other songs he had learned in Daxis. He sang us all sorts of songs: bards' ballads and housecleaning songs and marriage vows and comic tales." Ursula spluttered suddenly on the cider and said through laughter, "Brendon hates music. I remember that, when John was singing one particularly long tale about a woman searching for her twin brother, Brendon flung himself on the ground and began tossing and turning as though he were being tortured. Then Tristan took his cloak and began winding it around Brendon as though he were a corpse being prepared for burning." 

"Tristan," I mused aloud. "I don't believe I ever met that thief." 

Ursula's smile faded. She bowed her head over the flask so that her face was partly hidden by her hair. "He died the day that you arrived at the Koretian capital. He lived in Valouse, you see." 

I stared down at the fire, remembering a different fire I had seen in the Koretian countryside from the roof of the priests' house: the Battle of Valouse, sparked by the Jackal's earlier murder of an innocent man. Peter, Lord Dean, and I had watched the fire from one end of the roof, while at the other end had stood Andrew and his blood brother, ignoring the fire as they chatted together about their unexpected reunion. 

I leaned forward and pushed one of the logs further into the fire. Sparks streamed upwards into the blackness around us. Deep within me, the darkness had now been pushed back far enough that I could see dimly a scene before me, still frozen in time as it had been when I last visited this inner place. I found myself saying, "I sat next to a fire like this many years ago as well. I was in the black border mountains with my patrol, though by that time Adrian and I were spies. We had come back to our old unit in order to celebrate Adrian's nineteenth birthday." 

"I don't think that you've ever mentioned a man named Adrian," said Ursula. She had edged herself closer to the fire in order to dry the remaining dampness from her tunic, and perhaps also to be within closer speaking range to me, for the storm winds had grown loud outside. 

In the shifting light of the fire, I saw snowflakes sidle through the cracks of the door, and I thought to myself that we should return to the house now, before it became difficult to find our way. But the thought of going back into that cold darkness sent a shiver down my back. I held my hands out to the fire, saying, "I have not spoken of him to anyone for many years. He was my closest friend at that time." I glanced over at Ursula, squeezing out water from her thief's tunic. "He was Koretian." 

She smiled at me. "How did you meet, then?" 

"Our patrol caught him making a desperate attempt to cross the border into Emor. He nearly slipped by us, which was quite an achievement on his part. His family was taking part in a blood feud, one of those wretched and prolonged exchanges of murder that was the best substitute Koretia had for justice before the Emorian courts arrived." I looked over at Ursula to see whether she took offense at this remark, but she showed no anger. She had pulled a small comb from her belt-pouch and was combing her hair, watching me quietly. 

"He told us that he wanted to be Emorian," I continued. "He wanted to live in a land where he wouldn't be forced, through a blood vow, to murder others. He wanted a homeland where murderers were placed under judgment by a fair and impartial judge, not a homeland where the decision of who lived or died was determined by irrational passions." 

"And you let him enter Emor?" said Ursula. 

"My lieutenant gave him a choice: Adrian could return to Koretia, or he could undergo judgment for the wound he had inflicted on one of the patrol guards in his attempt to break past us. Adrian chose to be judged under Emorian law." I placed my hand around the empty flask but did not look Ursula's way as I said, "The lieutenant acted as judge; the law gives the patrol lieutenant that right. He found Adrian guilty of injuring a free-man, and he handed him over to me for punishment. Forty lashes." 

Ursula said softly, "That's a hard sentence." 

"Harder under my hands; I was still angry that he had wounded one of my fellow guards. Adrian passed out toward the end. When I revived him, I taunted him, telling him that an Emorian would have received sixty lashes. He told me to give him sixty lashes in that case." I balanced the flask delicately on one edge. "I gave him the sixty lashes. Then I went to my lieutenant and begged him to take Adrian into our unit." 

I looked over at Ursula finally to see how she was receiving this tale of my brutality. Her brow puckered with sadness, she said, "John had to face that type of problem during the years of the rebellion. Once one of his friends tried to betray him, and the man died while the Jackal was questioning him. I don't think John ever forgave himself for that. It's hard to be the one who must carry out discipline. I've always been glad that I was spared that burden." 

Something was singing in my heart. Looking away from Ursula quickly, lest my face reveal my thoughts, I said, "Adrian became the best guard in the unit. He thrived under hard discipline, having known so little of it in his earlier years. He and I used to spend hours discussing the law and how it shapes characters, giving men strength beyond their normal abilities. We agreed that the law could be manipulated to be used as a tool for private vengeance, and we decided that the only way to keep ourselves from twisting the law to our own satisfaction was to follow duty wherever it took us, even if it meant being harmed in body or spirit, even if it meant our deaths." 

Outside the hut I could hear the howl of the wind and the rustle of the trees. Inside the hut was only the comforting crackle of the fire. I said, "That night of Adrian's birthday, we sat next to a fire beside the patrol hut, warming our wine over the flames; the border guards had both Emorian wine and Koretian wine, but Adrian never drank anything but Emorian wine. We had taken up espionage together, and he had spied on the people of his native land, which must have been hard for him, but he never faltered in the task. He believed that Koretia should become a dominion and adopt the Emorian courts so that the blood feuds could be ended." 

"Well," said Ursula, "Koretia did become a dominion, and it did adopt Emorian law. Adrian must have been pleased." 

I said, as though I had not heard her comment, "He asked me to go with him that night on a spying mission, but I told him that I couldn't. I had just received my appointment as a council scribe. I was excited by the work I was going to start the next day, and I was sure that both Adrian and I could rise in rank as a result of my appointment. Adrian listened to everything I said, asked me about my new work, congratulated me on all that had happened. 

"What he didn't tell me was that the arrogant captain in charge of the Chara's spies had ordered him to spy on his home village – to go back to the place where he was now a doomed man, god-cursed in the eyes of his people because he had broken his blood vow to murder. He refused—" My voice wavered, and I had to begin again. "He refused to disobey orders. He went back, and he went back alone because he had not wanted to threaten my new appointment by telling me what he faced." 

I stared blindly at the fire. Faintly over the fire's rumble, I heard Ursula whisper, "Carle . . ." 

"They recalled me from my scribe's work to search for him. I found his body and brought it back to Emor, where it belonged." I placed the flask to one side as I said, "I owe a great deal to the Charas, but I owe much more to that Koretian-born Emorian. It was he who taught me how to love the Chara and his law." 

Eventually I remembered that Ursula was still sitting beside me, and I looked over at her. She still had her unbound hair lying across her chest, but her comb was long since abandoned. Instead, she was playing with some nuts that had spilled out of her belt-pouch. Presumably, she had collected them off her sitting-chamber floor after one of James's visits. She rolled one of the nuts to and fro on the hut's earth floor, but she did not say anything. In a different way than Andrew, she had a gift for using silence to prompt others to speak. I said, "Before we leave, I will have to take you to see Adrian's grave. He is buried in my family's cemetery." 

Ursula curled her fingers round the nut. "It must have been hard for you to part with him like that, without a proper chance to say goodbye." 

I rose stiffly to my feet and took several steps back from the fire. In my mind I could see two young soldiers sitting by the fire, inconspicuous in their spying tunics, exchanging sips of wall-vine wine from the same flask. I rewrote the scene the way it should have played: the light-skinned spy talking to the dark-skinned spy, urging him to forget his duty just for once. . . . I said, "It's odd, but talking about him like this makes me almost feel as though he is still alive. I can remember that night so clearly. I had bought Adrian some Daxion nuts for his birthday – an expensive treat that neither of us had tasted before. We shared a flask of wine next to the fire while passed the nuts around to the patrol guards. Adrian threw a nut in the fire for good luck." 

Ursula stood, abandoning the cloaks and her belt-pouch where they lay. She tossed back her hair and said, staring at the fire, "Tristan and I went wild-berry hunting that evening. Tristan was town-bred, so I had to show him how to extract the berries without scratching himself on the thorns. He was vain about his appearance, and I think his greatest suffering as a thief was having to wear dull-colored clothes. We divided our berries amongst all the thieves, and then" – I could hear the laughter in her throat – "Tristan dumped his share down my neckline." 

I could not help it; the tension from old memories had become too great. With two strides I was over to the fireside again, with one motion I scooped up the nuts, and with a final flourish I dropped them down the back of her tunic. 

Ursula responded with a squeal. "You – you Emorian!" she said, as though she could think of no worse insult. Then she reached down, grabbed a handful of dirt, and tossed it into my face. 

I pulled up the cloaks off the floor as she was scooping up more ammunition, and guarded my face with the cloth. There was a silence, and I ventured to peer over my shield. Ursula was waiting; the earth went straight into my face. 

"I surrender!" I bellowed before she could throw the third bombardment. "By the Sword of Vengeance, Koretian women certainly are given a fine military training. Spy work, assaults – please don't tell me that I must hide my sword from you as well." 

Ursula laughed as she pulled a face-cloth out from the front of her tunic and handed it to me. "I hate blades. The only thing I would do with yours would be to steal it and bury it somewhere where you couldn't find it. Shall I go inter it in the snow right now? With any luck, you'd find it by spring." 

"Well," I said, wiping my face as I looked at the dark door in front of us, "it is likely that we ourselves will be buried here till spring if we don't make our way back to the house now. I think that the wind has died down enough that our torch won't be instantly doused – though I am depending on you to send out a steady prayer to your gods that we go in the right direction and don't complete our journey by falling off the mountain." 

Ursula emitted a deep sigh. "I suppose that we must go, though it feels like taking one step closer to the palace. May I have my torturous hair-pin back?" 

I went over to the trunk by the sleeping pallet, picked up the pin that was still lying there, and tossed it over to Ursula. "Why torturous? Was it your instrument of torture when you were a thief for the Jackal?" 

"It's _my_ form of torture," replied Ursula, struggling to pull up her hair into a seemly bun at the top of her head. "I liked it better in Koretia when I could cut my hair short. I spend half a trumpet's call, every day, laboring to look like a proper Consort without a hair out of place. This I consider the chiefmost burden of my role. I would rather be the Chara himself, wearing the look of the Chara and condemning men to death, than spend one more day fighting with my hair. —May the Jackal eat his dead!" 

"I beg your pardon?" I said, startled. 

"I'm sorry; I forgot that you knew Koretian. I shouldn't have said that anyway. It's a powerful curse, akin to condemning us to the high doom. This cursed pin makes me lose my temper. Is it straight in the back?" She skipped over and whirled around so that I could see the back of her head. 

I looked down at the perfectly positioned hair, my eyes seeing, not the mask-black hair before me, but a golden head that had been in this position twenty years before. In a few seconds he would move away toward the table, pick up the pendant, and assume the burdens of his office. And a few seconds after that – or so it seemed to me – he would be sitting before a fire, drained of all energy, drawn deeper and deeper into melancholy by his sense of duty. 

Just as Adrian had been drawn to his death. 

I pulled out the pin and watched the hair fall unfettered from its binding. "Be free of your duty for a little while," I said. 

Ursula laughed again as she turned. "What an odd High Lord you are. Aren't you supposed to be the one who gives all of us lectures about how duty and obedience are acts of great joy? Why did you do that?" 

I saw the moment when she realized why I had done it, and the laughter drained from her face. We stared at each other, our eyes sober, and we knew that there was nothing we could do now but return to the house and then to the palace. 

I do not know which of us moved first. But her head tilted, and my head bowed, and our mouths met.


	15. Cases | 3

**CHAPTER THREE**   
**976 a.g.l.**   


> _More than one Case is usually cited in references to a law. In fact, the more Cases which are listed, the more that a student can grasp the true nature of the law. Some references may appear more obscure than others, causing lazy students to read only the Cases that are well known. The most frequent mistake is to skip the Cases in which the prisoner was found innocent; however, the keeping of a law reveals clearly how a law may be broken. In fact, it is almost a truism that the man who knows best how to obey the law is the man whose disobedience will cause the greatest harm._

  
o—o—o

Ursula had once said that she did not regard Peter's work as his mistress, but I had sometimes wondered over the years whether the law was my lover. I lavished the law with my devoted service, I could conceive of no greater joy than to gaze upon its naked face, and its beauty made me feel that all carnal pleasures were drab by comparison. Yet perhaps some small part of me still felt the need for those other pleasures, for at times in my life I have been aware of that need arising rebelliously within me, as though it were a prisoner being held unjustly in bonds. 

Such a moment came ten years ago when I awoke from my sleep with that vague sense of shame that always told me when I had been dreaming I was with a woman. 

I lay for a minute with my eyes closed, feeling the warm summer breeze chill the sweat on my body. Then a rap came at the door, and I knew what it was that had awoken me from my dream. Hastily pulling up my bed-cover, which had fallen off during my sleep, I said with invented confidence, "Enter." 

Curtis opened the door a crack. His tousled hair revealed that he too had recently awoken. Henry's successor had shown his loyalty to me by remaining with me after I gave evidence at Henry's trial, despite the great resentment that most of the palace servants had felt toward me because of my action. Peter had told me – the witness to this had of course been Andrew – that Curtis had even defended me to my critics. Partly in thanks to Curtis for this, I had taken to allowing him to sleep daily past my waking hour of dawn. This day, I could see from the stream of light through my windows, I too had overslept. 

"The Chara wonders whether he might speak with you, Lord Carle," Curtis said. "I have shown him into your study chamber." 

I nodded my thanks, being as yet too sleepy to do anything more, and waited until the young man had gone before tossing aside the bed-cover and rising hastily to my feet. Normally I would have responded instantly to the Chara's summons, but on this occasion I delayed long enough to wash and dry myself and put on a clean undertunic and tunic. I pinned my tunic-flap, as always, with the silver honor brooch I had received in the army. Then I made my way down the small passage leading from my sleeping chamber to the study chamber. There, the first sight that greeted me was of Peter pressed back against the bookshelf as my new Koretian slave-girl bent past him to wipe the dust off of my law books. 

I had a second in which to take in the situation, and this second prevented me from following my immediate impulse to shout at the slave, since this would only have revealed that Peter was incapable of defending himself against such an attack. Instead I said calmly, "Good day to you, Chara. I apologize for keeping you waiting." 

I would have expected the girl to turn immediately toward me as she heard my voice, but instead she backed up hastily from Peter, keeping her gaze fixed on him. Being so new to palace life, she had apparently failed to recognize whom she was trying to trap, even though Peter was dressed for the court. I noticed with thankfulness that Peter had not yet donned the Pendant of Judgment. If the girl had brushed against that, my problems would have been serious indeed. 

I came forward, turned the girl around with a grip to one shoulder that caused her to gasp, and said, in the same neutral voice as before, "You need not clean this room when I have guests, Levina. Have Curtis find something else for you to do, and I will give you further explanation of your duties later." 

Despite my grip on her, I do not think that she fully realized what I was saying. She smiled in relief that her plot had not been discovered, curtsied, and left the room. As I closed the door behind her, I said, "You wished to speak to me, Chara?" 

Peter did not take the easy escape I had offered; he was too generous for that. "Thank you for rescuing me," he said, pushing himself away from the bookcase. "I wasn't sure how to handle that situation." 

I noticed with anger that droplets of sweat shone white on his face under the early morning sun. "With discipline is how I will handle it," I replied bluntly. "This is not the first occasion on which she has tried that trick. I am beginning to see how it is that Koretian women use their wiles." 

"She is still a child," Peter said patiently. "I suppose that one of the older slaves convinced her that she could seduce a free-man into marrying her. You had better warn her that it doesn't always happen that way." 

Unsure of what to reply, I watched silently as Peter turned and rested his arm against the mantelpiece. He stared at the Arpeshian straw rug on my floor for a moment before saying, "Forgive me. I have women on the mind right now. I just visited Lord Dean to tell him that I did not wish to meet with the Arpeshian princess after all. You can imagine how he reacted to that news. He suggested that I was the type of man who was incapable of being satisfied by any woman." 

I had always taken great care, even in Peter's presence, never to say anything explicitly disloyal to the High Lord, but in response to this news I found myself drawing upon the picturesque vocabulary of my army days and telling Peter what I thought of Lord Dean's opinions on such matters. 

This cheered Peter enough that he laughed, flung himself into an upholstered armchair, and swung his legs onto one of the arms. "Very well, I suppose I should not allow myself to be vulnerable to Dean's veiled insults, but it is a hard issue for me to face. I've often worried about Andrew over the years because he is so skittish around women. It's embarrassing to find myself in the same predicament." 

"You had a bad start." I turned toward my wine pitcher, mainly to avoid looking at Peter. "But in any case, it is not a matter with which Lord Dean ought to be worrying you. The council indeed has the right to offer you its suggestions on who would be a good Consort for you, but it is up to you and your officials to decide on the final selection and on the timing of your marriage." 

Peter took the cup of wine from my hands and said easily, "Brian is the highest-ranked court official, and he is hardly qualified to determine such matters; he has only been married for a few weeks himself. But if I were to ask him, I'm sure his opinion would be the same as that of the council: that it is assuredly time that I begot myself an heir." 

I sat down in the chair opposite to Peter, watching his foot swing lightly in the air, as it did only when he was most relaxed. This gave me the courage to say, "You are certainly in much need of an heir, Chara, but I do not think that it would be wise for you to rush into matrimony until you are sure you have found the right woman. Even rulers who approach such matters with no darkness in their pasts must take great care in their selection of a mate." 

Peter smiled as his lips met the cup. "Andrew told me of a Koretian saying that madness comes only from the gods or from women. Well, I need not worry about a Koretian god sending me into madness, but I often feel that I will never be able to clear my mind enough to see any woman with detachment and objectivity. I allowed my passion to overcome my right sense once, and I'm terribly afraid of that happening again." 

"Objectivity can rarely be found in matters of passion or love," I said. "The most we can hope for is that we will be able to keep our reason about matters outside the object of our love – that, for example, we are able to retain our sense of duty." I waited for a moment more, but Peter continued to swing his foot in a relaxed manner, and I decided that the worst part of Peter's darkness had indeed been exorcised. 

I leaned back and allowed my gaze to drift over the man in front of me. Ten years had passed since I had first seen the Chara wear his formal clothes, and though his burdens of spirit and body had caused his face-lines to deepen, Peter still looked boyish at times like the present. By some miracle, he had not allowed himself to fall into somberness and gravity as his father had done; there was still a lightness about his grey eyes as they rested upon me. He caught me watching him, and the eyes suddenly sparkled as tiny lines of laughter appeared next to them. 

"What is on your mind?" he asked. "Are you judging whether I would make a good mate for the Consort?" 

I smiled at Peter's words; my private opinion was that any woman would be lucky to have Peter as a husband. "No, Chara. I was wondering whether I dared give you my view on what type of woman you ought to be looking for." 

Peter swung his legs off the chair arm and turned to face me, leaning forward. "Need you ask? I would welcome your advice on this, as in all matters." 

"This is hardly an area where I have any expertise," I cautioned, "but it seems to me that the council has troubled itself too much in trying to find you a wife from amongst the noblewomen of the empire. It is clear to me that all your life you have sought out your friends from the lower ranks. Even I am not noble-born. You might find your married life easier if you were to wed someone who has not been raised in high protocol and strict formality, but instead could provide you with the easy informality which you presently seek in your leisure time." 

Peter had been gradually allowing his expression to drop into amused astonishment. Now he went limp against the back of his chair. "Carle, record this one for the court historian: you have just rendered the Chara speechless. Is this the same man speaking who once chided me for being friendly to slaves?" 

"I know that you have sense enough not to seek a Consort from among the servants," I said, watching his reaction to see whether my statement was in fact true, "but there are many fine prospects amongst the lesser free-women who are not in service. You may wish to begin exploring that possibility." 

Peter sighed. "Well, that will have to wait for a while. What I actually came to tell you is that I am considering going to Koretia." 

In the silence that followed, I heard the sound of Curtis's voice; he was evidently giving the Koretia girl a sharp warning about some neglect to her duties. In order to cover this, I said, "You have spoken of doing so for some time." 

"And now matters are serious enough that I fear I must. I assure you, this isn't simply an excuse on my part to leave the palace for the first time in ten years." Peter grinned, and then sobered again as he said, "Both of us gravely underestimated the Jackal at the time of my enthronement. That cursed rebel has most of the Koretians ready to attack my soldiers at any moment. Already this year, the Jackal's thieves have murdered a score of Emorians, and Dunne tells me that war will ignite within a very few weeks. I must be on the spot to decide what to do." 

"You sent Dunne to Koretia?" 

"What else could I do? All of my spies were continuing to be bribed or silenced. I can't thank you enough for finding me such a loyal and incorruptible private messenger." 

"As I recall, all that I promised was that he would be laconic – at least, I never heard him speak an unnecessary word during his four years as a council guard." 

"Well, it turns out that, in addition to faithfully fulfilling his duties as my messenger for private letters, he also has great talents for espionage," said Peter. "He turned up more information in Koretia than I had asked him for – but I can't go into that now. What I want to know is, will you come to Koretia with me? I know that you swore never to return to that land, but I'll need your help for a number of reasons, not the least of which is your friendship at a time when I'll be surrounded by enemies." 

Of course I said yes, and I continued to smile as though delighted by the suggestion as Peter made a hasty farewell, saying that he had work to do in the Map Room before the court day began. But once he had gone, I paced up and down the chamber, my eyes blind to the image in this room that had always comforted me most: the small window allowing in soft light filtered through grey clouds, while under that light shone the white leather bindings of the law books, standing row upon row, like soldiers protecting the land. 

Instead, what I saw before me was the image I retained from my last trip to Koretia thirty-three years before: a broad window that allowed the harsh Koretian sun to fall unimpeded onto the bare stone floor before me, and upon that floor, staring blindly upward, a nineteen-year-old man with his throat cut. 

I went abruptly to the door of the study chamber, opened it, and nearly fell over the Koretian slave-girl, who was kneeling on the floor of the passageway in order to scrub it. 

I could be sure that Curtis had not told her to clean this end of the passage. No doubt she had hoped to eavesdrop on my conversation with the Chara and hear what he said about her. I said sharply, "Stand up. I wish to speak with you concerning your conduct earlier this morning." 

"My conduct, Lord Carle?" Levina stood up, allowing her eyes to widen in a suitably innocent fashion. The passageway we were standing in was dimly lit in the day by a window facing south, and I pulled her toward the lamp at the other end of the passage to see that her expression was indeed as deceptive as it first appeared. 

"You know to what I am referring," I said. "This is the second time this has happened, and for a second time I will deliver only a warning. But do not mistake me, girl: if I see you attempting your Koretian tricks once again, I will not show patience toward you on that third occasion." 

She looked up at me. I made a mental note to check whether Curtis had trained her yet to lower her eyes; there was no point in scolding her if he had not. Then she said in a low voice, "Master, you must forgive me. It is indeed a trick I have been playing, but not the one you think. I care nothing for these other men. My only hope has been to gain your attention." 

A child could have seen through her plan, and I was ready to tell her what I thought of her attempt at seduction. Without warning, though, she suddenly pressed her body against me. 

I struck at her with the same force I would have used against a snake that had latched its fangs onto me. It was her scream that brought me to the realization that she was nothing more than a twelve-year-old child. Cursing myself inwardly for giving way to my temper, I leaned over the sobbing girl and tried to pull her gently up, but my sight was suddenly blinded by a blade of light cutting through the darkness onto me and the girl. I looked to the source, and saw standing in the doorway to the palace corridor the figure of Andrew. His gaze travelled from the sobbing girl to me, and contempt entered into his eyes. 

I would like to think that if I had been brought hand-bound before the Chara in judgment for striking a council lord, it would have caused me to be more circumspect in my actions toward that lord in the future. I myself had certainly shown caution toward Andrew since his trial a year before. Yet his manner toward me had grown more bold as the months passed. Freed from his position as the Chara's servant, he appeared to regard himself as free to ignore the Chara's wishes as well, and he had taken to insulting me openly whenever Peter was not in our presence. Peter had unbound both of us from his command that we not to speak to each other, so my duty did not require me to tell Peter of Andrew's insolence. All that I could do, and did, was continue to follow Peter's wishes and not begin conversations with Andrew. 

Now, however, I felt anger burn deep inside me as I stared at the man who was always quick to pass judgment on me for my methods of discipline, though he came from a land where people settled disputes through murder rather than through the law. I asked tersely, "What do you want?" 

Andrew was silent a moment. I supposed it took him some time to formulate an excuse for why he had entered my quarters uninvited. Then he said smoothly, "I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Lord Carle. I was looking for the Chara and thought that he might be with you." 

This statement was laughable, coming as it did from a man who, even in his servant days, scheduled his time to suit his own needs rather than Peter's. With my mind still on the past, I straightened myself, leaving the girl sobbing melodramatically, since she had now found a larger audience. "You ought to know where your master is," I said. "Why are you not with him?" 

Andrew replied with cool arrogance, "Because, Lord Carle, I am not the Chara's servant and so am not required to know his every movement." 

The truthfulness of this statement – that Andrew did not consider himself the Chara's servant – nearly caused me to smile. But remembering how my smile had brought trouble upon both me and the Chara the last time that I used it in Andrew's presence, I contented myself with stepping forward and staring hard into Andrew's eyes. Keeping my voice low as I would with a servant who needed to be reminded of his duties, I said, "If you are a loyal Emorian, Andrew, then you are his servant, as I am his servant and all Emorians are. If you do not believe this, then disobey the Chara's commands again, and see how long he allows you to live." 

I had hoped to see in Andrew's eyes some indication of remorse. Whatever my own troubles might be with Andrew, I still retained hope that he had enough affection for Peter to avoid causing further problems. But Andrew must have sensed my desire to read his thoughts, for he quickly swung his eyes away from me as he had always done back in his slave days, when he wished to keep his hatred of me hidden. At the same moment, I realized that I had been lured into doing what I had vowed never to do again: I was fighting with Andrew. 

Shaken, I turned away to collect my thoughts. I had my back to Andrew for no more than a heartbeat, but he took that opportunity to slip back into the corridor. My eye fell on the Koretian girl, who was staring at where Andrew had been with such open admiration that it was clear who her next attempted victim would be. Well, she would get no satisfaction there, but the combination of the morning's events – Levina's double attack, her artful tears, Andrew's shifty gaze – caused me to resolve one matter in my mind. Not even the threat of the high doom would keep me from Peter's side when he visited Koretia. Too many dangers awaited him there. 

o—o—o

"Well, that was certainly an entertaining meeting," Peter said cheerfully that evening. 

_"Entertaining?"_

Peter shot me a warning look, and I quickly lowered my voice. There was little need to do so, however. The day's council meeting had lasted long past its usual time, so that the palace corridors were now largely deserted. Even Peter's dedicated clerk had left word with the council guards that he was leaving for the day; no doubt the clerk wanted to spend time with his new wife. It was probably just as well that Peter was not yet married, for he would have little time for domestic matters during the next few weeks. 

"'Entertaining' is not the word I would use," I said grimly. 

"Oh, Carle, don't lose your sense of humor. I thought it was comical seeing the council lords jump up and down like schoolboys when they know perfectly well that they have no right to keep me from going to Koretia." Peter stopped speaking as we passed one of the lesser law researchers who was headed back toward the council quarters. The man did not appear to recognize the Chara, whose only identifying mark was the emblem brooch pinned to his tunic. 

"Of course, the most amusing episode came when Andrew walked into the meeting from the council library," added Peter when we had passed the council official. "Lord Dean looked so apoplectic that I thought for one splendid moment that I was finally going to be rid of my insufferable High Lord." 

"That porter ought to be dismissed," I said in a curt tone. "He knows how critical it is to check the council rooms before a closed meeting." 

"Well, but it was only Andrew," Peter said serenely. "And Andrew knows more about this trip than any of the lords." 

He paused; we had reached the entrance to the Court of Judgment. The great gold doors were open a crack, and through them could be seen a group of slave-boys cleaning the steps of the dais. A fight had broken out amidst them, and wet cloths were being tossed back and forth; one nearly hit the throne. 

I took a breath and began to step forward to admonish the boys; then I saw that the Chara was watching them with a smile on his lips. He said quietly, so that they would not hear him, "Do you remember when I told you that I had played tag with some of the slave-boys here? That was my first confession to you, and it led to your lengthy lecture about how masters shouldn't befriend servants." He was silent a moment. Beyond him I could hear the sound of turbulent laughter echoing against the hard walls of the court. Then he added, still smiling, "You were wrong about Andrew, you know. You may as well admit it now." 

I said, phrasing my words carefully, "Andrew has certainly served you loyally for these past twelve years." 

"But will not serve me loyally for the next twelve? Carle, your polite omissions may work with Lord Dean, but you and I know each other too well for such devices." 

We started forward again, passing beyond the dusk-light pouring in from the palace entrance and entering into a dimness that had not yet been alleviated by the corridor torches being lit. Peter asked, "What is it that worries you about Andrew after all this time?" 

"I worry about your decision to bring him with us to Koretia," I said. "However faithful he may be to you, you are placing him in a difficult position by forcing him to choose between his two lands." 

"'I have only one land, which is Emor, and only one master, which is you.' That's what he said to me this morning when I asked him to come." Peter's smile was matched by a faraway look in his eyes. "I know that your opinion of Andrew is low, but do you really think that he would deliberately lie about such a matter?" 

"Not deliberately, no." I hesitated before the Chara's door, reluctant to go in – no doubt Andrew was awaiting him – but Peter, perhaps sensing my thoughts, continued past the door in the direction of my quarters. 

I said, "It is not deliberate lies I fear from Andrew but self-deception. Even the best men are capable of deceiving themselves about their true natures, and Andrew has never struck me as the type of man who is willing to admit to his weaknesses." 

Peter was now looking at me with an oddly fixed gaze, but all that he said was, "Certainly you're right that none of us are ever fully aware of our own faults. Even so, I think that Andrew is less culpable in this regard than most men. I know that he seems arrogant and proud to you, but in fact he has an exceedingly humble opinion of himself. He is most ignorant, not of his faults, but of his gifts. And those gifts are many. He has unobtrusively worked as an intermediary between me and the palace servants, and I hope that he will similarly allow me to get to know better the Koretians – particularly that mysterious man, the Jackal." 

"What is mysterious about the Jackal, Chara? He defies your rule, he kills Emorians, and he bribes your spies." 

"That is one of the matters I had Dunne look into, and I think you may be as surprised as I was at what he discovered." Peter cut off his next sentence abruptly as we reached my quarters, and I opened the door. Curtis was waiting on his stool inside the door. He jumped up as he saw us and gave Peter a low bow; his reverence for the Chara was almost as great as my own. I quickly sent him off to the slave-quarters on an invented task – to have one of my slaves gather a bouquet of flowers from the inner garden – and then I ushered Peter into my study chamber, where my well-trained free-servant had already lit a fire against the cool summer evening. 

The sun had not yet set. The pink and gold fringe of the sky's curtain served as a backdrop to the black border mountains. Peter glanced out the window; then he turned to accept the cup of wine I had poured him. Seating himself by the sun-bright fire, he said, "I feel lucky to have Dunne working for me. If he were working for the Jackal, we would have lost Koretia long ago. He discovered what none of my spies, even the few loyal ones, were able to tell me: that the bribes to my spies have been coming, not from the Jackal, but from Lord Alan." 

I frowned but made no protest, remembering the sly man I had witnessed talking to Lord Dean on the night of Peter's enthronement. "What led Dunne to investigate the governor?" 

"A message from the Jackal, ironically enough. It appears that the Jackal has been just as eager to communicate with me as I have been to speak with him." Peter watched me as I came over to sit by him. I had finished pouring my own wine into a gold cup he had once given me. 

A quirk of a smile from him told me that he remembered the gift, but he made no comment on the matter, so I said, "The Jackal sent you a message?" 

"In an odd tongue, as they say. He kidnapped Dunne." 

"Dunne? Kidnapped?" Astonishment entered my voice. 

"Yes, it was no mean feat. If I needed anything more to make me apprehensive about the rebel-leader's powers, it would be that. As for the kidnapping itself, Dunne's story is a strange one. Apparently, the whole incident took place in silence. The Jackal wore his usual mask, of course, but I suppose that he did not wish to have his voice recognized. Dunne was hand-bound and eye-bound, and then one of the kidnappers took him by horseback to a distant point. Dunne was convinced that the Jackal himself brought him there, though he couldn't say why. He simply stated that the Jackal had a 'presence' that none of his thieves possessed. Upon reaching their destination, the kidnapper stunned Dunne on the head, and when Dunne awoke, he found himself at the governor's mansion." 

"His palace, you mean." I spoke mainly to cover the pause in Peter's speech. I could hear Curtis in the passageway of my quarters, giving instructions to Levina, and I made a mental note that I had better check on her afterwards in the inner garden in order to make sure that she was not attempting to seduce any passing free-men. With my luck, she would proposition the High Lord. 

"No, I mean his mansion, the one he has built next to the Koretian hot springs." Peter leaned back casually in his chair. Only the slight tightening of his fingers on the stem of his wine cup betrayed the fact that he had heard Levina's voice. "I never thought to send any of my spies there; it's in the wilds of central Koretia. It turns out that the 'cottage' which the governor built there – that's how he has described it to me in his letters – is a quarter the size of this palace. And now, suddenly, it is clear why the Koretians have never become reconciled to my rule." 

"He has been overtaxing them and using the extra money to his profit," I suggested slowly. 

"Taxing them and worse. Many of the Koretians he arrested and tortured to death because they were supposedly the Jackal's thieves were simply very rich men. Of course, all their estates were confiscated by the governor. Dunne tells me that the high noblemen of the land have been virtually extinguished and that the governor is now turning his attention to the lesser noblemen. It is no wonder that the Jackal has acquired so many followers. The wonder is that it has taken this long for the Koretian rebellion to flame." 

The evening was mild, but I found myself rising in order to throw kindling onto the fire. I was inwardly cursing myself for not having recognized this pattern. I had known well enough, since the Chara Nicholas's reign, that Lord Alan was prone to arrest noblemen on charges of treason. Both Nicholas and his son had received protests about this from Koretia's remaining high noblemen, on more than one occasion. I had advised both Charas that there was no validity to the protests, for Koretians were consummate liars. 

Not as skilled in lying as the governor, it seemed. "Chara, the fault in this matter—" 

He waved away my apology. "We were both fooled, Carle; we assumed that all the corruption in that land must stem from the Jackal. Moreover, the governor must be well skilled at hiding his tracks to have kept us blind to his deeds for so many years. If it had not been for the Jackal's message to me, we might have remained blind." 

"You said nothing of this to the council." 

"With Lord Dean coming with us on this trip? Dean and Alan are two of a kind, Carle. I'm sure that the High Lord's first thought when he learns of this will be regret that he didn't think of such an idea himself. I have never felt it right to remove men from office unless they were fools or law-breakers, and Lord Dean is neither. But he has the potential to be a law-breaker, and I do not wish to place him in a position where he might be tempted to ally himself with the governor. Nor have I told the entire story to Andrew, for a different reason. I don't want him to know the full extent of the suffering that his Koretian brothers have undergone for these fifteen years." 

"Andrew is Emorian," I said dryly. 

Peter laughed then and drained the wine in his cup. I rose to pour him more, but he pulled his cup back, took mine from my hand, and went over to the wine pitcher to serve us both. "Well, I will admit this to you alone: I find Andrew's frequent assertions of his land loyalty to be tedious. You can't blame him for being insecure, though. It must be hard to go from serving one master to another." 

"Did he even have a master when he lived in Koretia?" I asked as Peter handed me my cup. "He appeared to have no training in obedience when I first bought him." 

Peter's silence was a statement in itself. I waited until he was forced to meet my eyes. Then he said, "He told me this morning that it was to the Jackal God that he made his blood vow to kill me. Is that the evidence of future treachery you are seeking, Carle? I know that you won't be satisfied until you find it." 

A current of anger ran beneath the surface of Peter's quiet voice like swift water beneath a frozen pond. I quickly dipped my eyes. After a minute, Peter said calmly, "In any case, it is the governor's treachery we are here to discuss, and I very much need your help in uncovering that. Dunne is quite certain of what has been happening, and I trust his instincts, but he wasn't able to find the sort of evidence against Lord Alan that could be used in a court of law. At the moment, all that can be proven is that illegal activities were carried out under orders supposedly originating from the governor, but actually conveyed by his palace officials. I don't suppose I need tell you how easy it would be for Lord Alan to blame any crimes on the officials who conveyed his orders." 

"No need indeed, Chara," I said dryly, though continuing to keep my eyes lowered. "I've worked in the army." 

Peter gave short laugh. "Well, then. I suspect that the full evidence against Lord Alan can only be found in the governor's palace, hidden in places where even I wouldn't think to go. So, Chara's spy, I need your skills." 

I lifted my eyes in time to see Peter's grin. He continued, "I'm told that Lord Alan has a keen hatred of Koretians; that should give you a genuine point of contact with my shrewd governor. Once you have eased his suspicions, you may be able to find your way to the evidence. I will leave all that to you." 

We were both standing. Peter had not reseated himself after pouring the wine, and I had been poking the fire with an iron in order to obscure the fact that I was remaining standing purely for his sake. Directing my eyes toward the fire, I asked, "If I find the evidence, will you ask Lord Dean to place him under the council's discipline?" 

"It is too late for that." The tone of Peter's voice caused me to jerk up my head abruptly. At the sight of his face, I felt my breath fall into a trap at the back of my throat, but I was unable to look down once more. The Chara said darkly, "It is too late for me and much too late for the Koretians. For fifteen years, dozens upon dozens of Koretians have met a horrible death by the orders of the governor, and it is possible that, within a few weeks, thousands more will die in war, not to mention the many Emorian soldiers who will die as well. This is how Lord Alan has chosen to follow my father's command to him that he care for the Koretian people with discipline and mercy." 

He took a step forward. I was frozen with the fire-iron in my hand, but the Chara stopped in order to place his cup on the wine-stand next to the window. He said softly, "I do not want the governor placed under the council's discipline; I want him charged with disobedience to the Chara, and I want him executed. He has much to answer for, and no punishment short of his death will satisfy me." The Chara turned away to stare out the window. 

Released from my paralysis, I nevertheless remained standing by the fire, considering the back of Peter's golden head. When I had watched him from this vantage-point on the night of his enthronement, I had been uncertain as to whether I would ever be able to make him see the true nature of the Chara's vengeance: that it is undertaken, not out of personal anger or pain, but in order to right wrongs done against Emor and its laws. The Emorians – including the people of Emor's dominions – needed a Chara who was willing to draw his Sword of Vengeance on their behalf and bring peace to them through bloodshed. Now at last I saw the results of my tutoring. Now Peter had reached the age where he could see how vengeance was only the other side to mercy. 

"Chara," I said, "Lord Alan is under the council's care and therefore would appear under my judgment, but if you will permit me, I will uncover the evidence against him, request a summons for his crime, and transfer him into your care, so that you yourself may have the satisfaction of sentencing him for his disobedience." 

Peter turned to look at me; it was Peter's face I saw now, not the Chara's. He said, "Before you promise such a thing, you should know that the governor's death will bring benefit to me." 

I had not realized that yet, but even this would not keep me from the joy of assisting the Chara in such a matter. "I know that the governor's death will allow you to free Koretia if you wish," I said. "That is your right; I will not try to interfere. It seems far more important to me that a man who has disobeyed the Chara's commands for so many years be brought to judgment. Rebellion against you is hard enough for me to accept; treachery against you I find unforgivable." 

Peter leaned his elbow against the window frame. His eyes were sober but his mouth smiling as he said, "Carle, your willingness to take on tasks that go against your self-interest has always astounded me. I think that, even if I were suddenly to become blind to all your other virtues, this alone would force me to continue following your advice. I can't tell you how much it has eased my burden throughout these years to have you by my side and know your loyalty to be complete. If you had not been here, I would have lost the strength to continue as Chara, long before now." 

I was still standing with the fire-iron in my hand. Vaguely I was aware that the newly-stoked fire was causing the iron to burn my hand, but it scarcely seemed important. I felt that, no matter what troubles Peter and I had in the future, what differences we had and what quarrels we fell into, nothing could ever take away from us this moment. 

Perhaps feeling, as I did, that he had spoken words whose warmth was too great to bear, Peter turned back to the window and said, "Even if I should sentence Lord Alan to death – and he must have a fair trial – it's hard to say what I'll decide about Koretia. There still remains the question of who I ought to place in charge of the land. I even thought of asking Andrew to take over the government – don't laugh, I was desperate for a solution. But it's likely that no one there remembers him; his widowed mother died when we attacked the capital, as did his blood brother. To the people of that land, Andrew would now appear just as Emorian as he always claims to be." 

I came closer to Peter in order to see his face. In the twilight, his eyes appeared darker than usual. With his gaze fixed on the scene before him, he said, "Some time tomorrow we will enter the black border mountains. I'm excited at being able to leave the palace after all this time, but I have the feeling that, the moment we enter the mountains, I will become terribly homesick. I'm glad we'll be together on this trip. You'll be a reminder to me of Emor and its laws when we enter into that alien land." 

His hand reached down to grope blindly for the cup. I handed it to him – not his cup, but the one I had been sipping the moment before. He raised the drink to his lips, and I watched while he shared my cup and stared at the dark gateway to Koretia.


	16. Cases | 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**   
**976 a.g.l.**   


> _The darkest Cases come from instances where one of the Great Three laws was broken. For a true lover of the law, it is painful to read the tales of how these crimes were committed. Inevitably, one cannot help but remember the passage on the Chara's burdens, in which one of the burdens cited is the fact that the Chara must be both victim and judge of those crimes which are committed against him. It is evidence of the tremendous strength of the Chara that no one holding that office has ever been known to sway in any way from judging justly those who harmed him most._

  
o—o—o

In my younger days, my patrol unit had once been trapped in the black border mountains when early snowfall arrived. I lived to tell the tale, but I can still remember the feeling of impending death: the chill silence, the heavy hand of doom, and the surprisingly light feeling that I had found the core of all that mattered: all life, all riches, all hopes now centered on the simple act of continuing to breathe. 

There cannot be a greater contrast between a mountain winter and a Koretian summer, but as I stood on a balcony at the palace of the Koretian governor several weeks later, I knew once more the chill silence I had felt as a young man. 

The still, night-black city below me was submerged in the heat that never seemed to leave this land. I had spent the previous evening awakening every few minutes from the moist fire of the air. Now it was not heat which kept me awake but the thought that I seemed to spend my life becoming an expert in subjects that would cause me pain. 

At Nicholas's encouragement, I had become the council's authority on this barbaric place, and for that reason Peter had asked me to return with him to the land I hated most. Once here, my training as a spy had given me the expertise I needed to strike up a distasteful show of friendship with the lawbreaking governor. And once here, I had found a third knowledge of mine surfacing: my awareness over all these years of Andrew's treacherous nature. 

But this knowledge had been of no use to me. I had watched three days before as Andrew renewed his friendship with his Koretian blood brother, who had survived the Emorians' attack on the city fifteen years before; perhaps because they live in a land of violence, Koretians have a special gift for escaping from certain death. I had also witnessed Andrew quickly readopt his Koretian mannerisms, and I had warned the Chara over and over of the possible consequences. But the Chara had brushed aside my warnings as though they were trivial annoyances, like the Koretian blood-flies that surrounded me on the balcony. 

Now it was too late for warnings. 

I heard a step behind me and turned quickly, but it signalled only the approach of Lord Dean, whose usually amiable expression had turned sour. Dimly lit by the moonlight, he joined me at the balcony railing and said, "I have instructed the governor to send out his soldiers at daylight. Naturally, this will alert the Koretians to what has happened and bring on the war we had hoped to prevent, but I dare not delay the search any longer." 

I made no reply. Soldiers clattered their weapons and equipment in the yard, preparing for their move in a few hours, but otherwise the only sound was of the wind, whistling in melancholy hollowness across the city. 

"May the high doom fall upon you, man!" cried Lord Dean. "You had him in the palm of your hand! Why didn't you have him arrested?" 

My lips were chapped and sore. I passed a tongue over them before saying, "He is not the sort who would speak under torture. I did not think it would be of any use to try that method." 

"So you said before." Lord Dean's voice turned scornful. "And so you handed him a note – a _note_ to give to the Chara. Why not just arrange for the Jackal to take over the governor's palace at the same time? Do you really believe that he will deliver the note, now that the Chara is in the Jackal's hands?" 

"Andrew does odd things." The wind caught at my low voice, tossing it away from me, so that it sounded as though I had spoken in a whisper. 

"Very well, he does odd things. He betrayed the Chara to the Jackal; perhaps his next whim will be to give the Chara your note. Since you refuse to tell me the contents of the letter, can you at least assure me that the letter will secure the Chara's release?" 

The wind stilled and then began again, like soft breathing. After a minute, Lord Dean said, "If your bizarre plan fails, I will have you summoned on charges. Do you hear me, Carle?" 

A humorless smile appeared on my lips. "If my plan fails, you and I will have more to worry about than my court appearance, High Lord. We will be busy trying to save Emor from destroying itself in civil war." 

"I just want you to understand who is to blame for all this. You could have saved him, and you threw away the chance." 

I said nothing, but simply stared down at my hands, which were hanging over the railing. Already I could imagine that I saw the blood on them. 

After a while, I became aware that Lord Dean had left. My gaze drifted toward the black border mountains, black even under the bright face of what the Koretians call the war moon. Somewhere beyond those death-dark rocks was a land where rebels were brought to justice, and traitors were executed. It seemed a world away from this land where an assassin smiled in friendship before leading a man to his death. 

Even the methods of warfare in this land were barbaric. If the governor sent out his men to search the city, we could expect that, within hours, the city and perhaps even the surrounding countryside would erupt in the fire that the Koretians use to kill their enemies. Almost already I could smell the smoke; almost I could hear the wind whispering the names of the dead. 

A voice said, "Carle." 

This time I turned slowly, unable to bear the thought that the voice had been an illusion. He was standing in the doorway to the sleeping chamber beyond. His hair was dark with sweat, his face cut in new lines of weariness, and his grey eyes black, even in the moonlight. He was wearing his emblem brooch, which I had last seen in the hands of Andrew the morning before, when I caught Andrew rifling through the papers of the kidnapped Chara. His right hand was resting atop his boney dagger; it was the blade which Andrew had used to try to kill me and which Peter had worn during this incognito visit to Koretia. His knuckles were white; he was gripping the dagger hilt as though protecting himself against danger. But the rest of his body was slumped as though he had been without sleep for a month. 

"I received your letter," he said quietly. "It provided the Jackal with a reason to release me; he would have killed me otherwise. I owe you my life." 

Of all the urgent questions that arose to my lips, the one which won out in the struggle was the question I cared least about. "Andrew gave you the letter?" 

"Yes." Peter's reply was short, and a shield descended upon his expression. I opened my mouth to ask more, but Peter anticipated me and added quickly, "Your letter said, 'I have them.' I knew that you must mean the documents. Are they with you?" 

In reply, I placed my palm upon my right thigh. Strapped underneath my tunic was my old army thigh-pocket, and hidden in this leather pocket was the evidence that incriminated the governor. 

Peter said, "Then we must move fast. We need to prevent the governor's troops from going into the city and sparking the war we've feared. Also, I wouldn't put it past Lord Alan to have us murdered and then blame it on the Koretians. Let's go to the subcommander now." 

He turned, and for the first time ever, I found myself catching hold of him. He halted but did not look my way as he said softly, "Later, Carle. I'm driving myself on energy I don't have, and if I stop to think about what has happened, I will not have the strength to finish my work here. Save your questions until we have secured the palace." 

Then he turned, and without looking to see whether I was following, he strode toward the corridor door. 

o—o—o

When the much-dreaded dawn finally arrived, I was standing in the governor's presentation chamber, trying to appear polite as I was introduced to the Jackal and one of his thieves. 

I had spent a busy three hours. Much time had been consumed explaining the situation to the subcommander of the Koretian army. I had identified him early on as a faithful servant to the Chara, but his intelligence was not the best, as evidenced by the fact that the governor had managed to hide his illegal activities from the man whose soldiers carried out most of the deeds. Peter finally surrendered to the inevitable and took over direct command of the army himself, calling out orders with a sharpness that sent all around him scurrying. Even Lord Dean, who was sulking because he had not been included in this tale from the start, made no argument when Peter assigned him the minor task of informing the governor's palace officials of what had happened. 

As for me, I was sent to the governor's court summoners. Ordinarily, Lord Alan would have been summoned to the Court of Judgment, but Peter wished for the trial to take place in Koretia, so that witnesses could easily be called on the governor's behalf – and so that Peter's judgment could be handed down quickly. By the time that I had explained the situation to the summoners – another lot of honest but stupid men – Peter's planned assassin had already been sequestered for some time with the Chara. 

The thief whom the Jackal had brought with him, a trader named Brendon, was a large, muscular man who looked at the Chara as though thoughts of murder had not yet left his mind. Trouble had occurred at the palace gate when he and the Jackal appeared there and demanded to see Peter. Thanks to the subcommander's obtuseness, the guards had not yet been told to expect a peace delegation, and so they had decided on their own initiative to arrest the unarmed rebels. By the time that Peter arrived, four soldiers were dead, and the Jackal had greeted the Chara's arrival with a stolen, upraised sword. 

Now, though, the rebel-leader watched Peter with an expression as composed as though he and the Chara were old acquaintances. Set into his dark-skinned face were eyes that were night-black, as though his pupils had grown as wide as a cat's. I had seen these cool eyes earlier on my visit: they belonged to Andrew's blood brother John. 

I supposed that I ought to have guessed that even Andrew would require a strong motive for betraying his master, but neither I nor the Chara had expected the Jackal, who had first appeared in this land thirty-six years before, to be a twenty-five-year-old man. 

But of course it is easy enough for a masked rebel to pass on his legacy in secret. The second in the line of the Jackals was holding his mask lightly in his hand now, allowing it to sway slightly on its strap. As it swung my way, I saw the face painted on it: slanting golden eyes, needle-thin golden whiskers, and a silver mouth that turned upward in something between a snarl and a grin. The mask contrasted sharply with the quietness of the young man before me, and I began to wonder what duplicity lay here. 

Peter had picked up a sheaf of papers. Handing them to me, he said, "The Jackal has already written this up, based on our earlier conversations; I will need a council lord's witness. What is your opinion of it?" 

I made my way slowly through the pages, not only in order to uncover the Jackal's latest tricks, but also out of admiration for the document. It was the written form of a peace oath, forming the basis for an anticipated peace settlement, and it was the neatest document of its kind I had ever encountered: every problem that might arise between the Jackal and the Chara during this negotiation period had been outlined and the solution offered. I read through the long list of terms which remained to be bargained and finally reached at the end the list of terms which had already been confirmed and which would therefore be included without question in the peace settlement. Only one item was listed: the Chara agreed to give the Koretian government over to the Jackal. 

I do not suppose that I read this term more than three times in a row before the Jackal asked softly, "Is there a problem, Lord Carle?" 

I looked up quickly. The rebel-leader's expression had not changed, but there was an edge to his voice that made me feel as though I had just confronted a bloody blade. Staring into his eyes, I realized that the Jackal's tranquility was the complacence of a religious fanatic: this man truly believed himself to be a god and therefore above the laws of men. I shivered then from the vision of what it must have been like for Peter to be trapped for hours under the claws of this calm zealot. 

Peter had said nothing. I knew without looking his way that he was awaiting with dread my next question. I would have given anything to spare him this additional ordeal, but my duty did not allow me to do so. Turning to look at him, I said evenly, "Chara, I must ask you, in the name of the council, under what circumstances you agreed to this final term." 

"I was free, Carle," Peter replied quietly. "The Jackal had already freed me when I asked him to take over the government. You must believe me." 

"I believe anything you tell me, Chara," I said, and took up the pen to sign my name to the oath. 

That was the extent of my involvement in both the peace oath and the subsequent peace settlement. Lord Dean arrived soon afterwards, made clear that he, not I, should be representing the council at such a meeting, and ordered me out of the chamber. Peter linked eyes with me in such a lengthy manner that I could almost convince myself that he was desperate for my presence while he was with the Jackal, but when I left, he was calmly discussing with the rebel-leader how to turn the Koretian army over to the subcommand of his thief Brendon. 

Lord Dean had given me half a dozen menial tasks to do as an excuse for shunting me away. By the time I was through with these, the sun had risen to mid-morning. The palace corridors, though, were windowless, and so they remained dimly lit with torches. Because of this, it was not until I neared the chambers where the Chara and the rest of us were staying that I saw the young Koretian woman standing uncertainly in front of my door. 

I stopped and watched from behind as she slowly tried the latch, found that it was unlocked, and then stepped back without opening the door. She was not a palace servant; that was clear from her gown, which was neither rich nor cheap but somewhere in between. She was presumably one of the city women, perhaps the daughter or wife of a palace official. She stared up and down at the doorway for a while, looked at the doorways on either side of my door, and began slowly pushing down the latch. She opened the door a crack and looked through, then stepped back a moment to consider the doorway again, before taking a hesitant step into the chamber. 

It was clear to me from all this what was happening. She was searching for a door she had seen only once or twice, she was a stranger to the palace and so was afraid to ask anyone for directions, and it may have been that she was not even supposed to be in the palace at all. I walked up to my chamber door. 

She was on the point of stepping out of the room, as she had already seen that it was not the place she was seeking. When she saw me, she started, and a blush covered her cheeks. This revealed to me what I had not recognized when her back was to me: this woman was a half-breed, with the hair and eyes of a Koretian but the skin of an Emorian. She must have been the product of the sort of relationship that had taken place many times during the past fifteen years, since the Chara had been forced by circumstances to station Emorian-born soldiers in this land, rather than follow his usual dominion policy of recruiting native-born soldiers. Based on what I had heard of the Koretians' treatment of Emorians, I could not imagine that this young woman led a happy life. 

This thought prompted me to smile gently at her and ask, "Have you lost your way?" 

Her response was instantaneous. Her face brightened as she said, "It's these cursed corridors. I thought that the place where I grew up was bad enough, but _every_ door in this palace looks alike, and _every_ guard has the same blank face, and I feel as though I've been wandering for _hours_." 

I laughed and waved her back into the chamber. One part of me was still with Peter, watching his dark, weary face, but another part of me was eager to escape the grief and pain of the previous night. "I'll see whether I can help you find the right identical door," I said. "Where did you come from originally?" 

"I'm not really sure," replied the young woman hesitantly. "I was visiting the – the man I'm betrothed to, and he had to leave the room. He was gone for so long that I thought I would go down the corridor to try to find him. Then I met a guard who looked as though he would willingly arrest all intruders and fling them into the dungeon without questions, so I slipped into a side corridor, and _there_ I saw a man surrounded by guards and shouting at them loud enough to be heard by the inhabitants of the Land Beyond that he would personally execute any man who touched him. Then he said that of course he would cooperate in every way possible, but I didn't want to see whether he would change his mind, so I slipped down another corridor. That's when I got lost." 

I was entertained to hear from this account that Lord Alan had confronted his doom in the same equivocal manner that he had run his dominion. I also took note of the fact that the young woman had stumbled in her reference to the man she was visiting, and I concluded that the couple must have a less formal relationship. I poured out a cup of wine and handed it to the young woman, who had been skipping her way around my guest chamber as she spoke. She took a quick look into the side chamber where Curtis had been staying. All of the guest rooms had side chambers for the servants, though Andrew had been given a room of his own, despite the fact he was posing as the Chara's free-servant during our incognito visit. 

"The rooms all look alike too," she said with a sigh. She took a sip of the wine and seemed puzzled. I supposed that she had never drunk wall-vine wine before. 

"It is like that at the place I come from as well," I said, still doing my best to put the lost woman at ease. "When I was young, I once walked into my sleeping chamber without lighting a lamp, crawled into bed, and only then noticed in the firelight that I was in bed with another man's wife." 

The young woman spluttered the wine, and then, with no embarrassment, wiped the liquid from her face. "What did you do? Did she scream?" 

"I think she was too frightened to do so. I was also too frightened to say anything, for at that moment a man walked into the chamber, saw me in bed with his wife, and drew his sword." 

"By the Jackal's eyes!" The young woman seated herself with a bounce on top of the only large piece of furniture in the room, my bed. "I hope that you had an eloquent tongue to explain what had happened." 

"I was afraid that he would not wait for an eloquent speech, and in any case, I was mind-muddled by the realization that I was in bed with a half-naked woman. So I began reciting a portion of a law I had memorized a few days before – my work involved doing research on Emorian laws. It was a subsection on the Sentences of a certain law, explaining why the murder of an unarmed man is such a serious offense." 

The young woman drew her legs up against her body, cradling them with her arms. This artless move made her look like a girl, and in truth, she was scarcely older than one. "I suppose that gave him pause." 

"It gave him amusement anyway. He quickly saw that I was not the sort of young man who had lovemaking on his mind. He laughed and sent me away, and then spread the story amongst his friends, so that I was dogged with the tale for weeks afterwards. Since then, I've been very careful when I've gone through any identical doors." 

The young woman smiled and drained the last of her wine with a gulp. "This is delicious," she said. "I can't imagine why Andrew doesn't like Emorian wine." 

I had been about to take the cup from her. Now my hand hovered in the air as I said, "Andrew?" 

"My brother." She handed me the cup, watching my face with uncertainty written upon her own expression. "Do you know him?" 

"We are acquainted," I said evenly. "My name is Carle son of Verne; I am one of the Chara's council lords." 

I expected a look of distaste to appear immediately on her face. I therefore jumped in surprise as she leapt off the bed and cried, "Oh, I'm so glad to see you! Peter told me all about you last night. He said you were the person he most wanted me to meet." 

My mind was still sluggishly absorbing the news that Andrew had a sister. I suppose that if there had not been a soft knock on the door at that moment, I would have spent the rest of the morning gaping at the woman before me. As it was, moving slowly to open the door gave me time to think, so that when I saw who my visitor was, I said, "Come in, Chara. I have just been speaking with your betrothed." 

Peter's face was as weary as before, but his eyes lightened as I spoke, and he underwent a successful attempt at a smile. "I ought to have known that Ursula would bypass proper protocol and introduce herself." 

"He very kindly took me under his care when I got lost," Ursula explained. "I'm sorry. I know that you told me to stay in Andrew's room, but Andrew went off somewhere, he didn't say where, and I got tired of waiting for you to come back." 

Peter stepped over and placed his arms around the young woman. Smiling down at her, he said, "I apologize for being so long in returning. I'm afraid that this is what life will be like for you as the Chara's wife. I will make a poor husband." 

Ursula gave the proper response to this ridiculous statement – she kissed him – and I allowed my gaze to wander over toward my free-servant's room. Curtis, who had been as distressed as I was to learn of the Chara's disappearance, had begged to be allowed to help in some way, so I had sent him to mingle among the palace free-servants and quash all rumors of Peter's kidnapping. I wondered whether that was where Andrew was now, or whether he was in the company of his blood brother, helping the Jackal to complete his destruction of all Emorian laws and customs in this land. 

I became aware that Peter was murmuring softly to Ursula, convincing her to return to Andrew's room and snatch some sleep. It appeared that Ursula had been at the Jackal's lair during the kidnapping and had received no more sleep than the rest of us. She left the chamber without protest, reserving her final, luminous smile for me; then Peter carefully closed the chamber door. When he turned again, the darkness had returned to his eyes. 

His voice was light, however, as he asked, "So what do you think, Carle?" 

"She is not much like Andrew," I replied carelessly. Witnessing Peter flinch, I added quickly, "I mean—" 

"I know, I know, you meant that as a compliment." Peter remained successful in keeping his tone cheerful. "The two resemble each other greatly, actually, but the resemblance is below the surface. I didn't guess who she was until Andrew told me. Of course, she is only his half-sister. Her mother is Andrew's mother, who survived the Emorian attack by a few months, and her father is the nameless Emorian soldier who enslaved Andrew after raping his mother. That puts a barrier between Andrew and Ursula that I hope they will be able to overcome. But the important fact is that she was raised by the Jackal. There would be great political advantages if I were to marry her." 

I said nothing, and after a moment Peter's faint smile struggled to the surface once more. "Oh, very well, politics are not my only reason for wanting to marry her. I hope that you can see the other reasons." 

"She is a charming young woman, Chara," I said firmly. "I can see why you would want to marry her, both from a political viewpoint and a personal one. Only one thing worries me." 

"That she is Andrew's sister." Peter had been leaning against the closed door. Now he walked forward into the path of the morning light that was melting into the room from the fiery Koretian sky. "Well, she is half Emorian. And you said yourself that she is not much like Andrew." 

"I am worried only about the political implications of her kinship. There are those in your palace who resent Andrew for his rise to power, and it might be hard for your betrothed to overcome the stigma of being sister to a former palace slave." 

Peter stared down at my half-empty cup on the wine-stand, but he did not move to pour himself a drink. "You may be right. I will have to consult with Ursula and the Jackal about this, but it may be wise for us to remain silent about her kinship to Andrew." 

So far the dark waters covering Peter's true thoughts remained undisturbed. Now I deliberately touched them to test their depth. "I suppose that you will want to consult with Andrew as well." 

"There is no need." Peter used his finger to trace the outline of the lip of the cup, and then allowed his hand to trail away. He still had not looked up. "Andrew will be remaining in this land and therefore will not be affected by the decision. Besides, he is the Jackal's subject. It would not be proper for me to consult him." 

Peter was standing directly in the blazing golden light from the window, but I felt as though the darkness emanating from him had just swallowed the room in blackness. Perhaps sensing my consternation, he looked up and said, "You must have many questions about what happened, Carle. Where shall I start?" 

I hesitated, but lost my nerve. "Perhaps with your decision to give the government over to the Jackal." 

"Yes, I was wrong about the Jackal." Still standing, Peter propped himself against the low back of the reclining couch. "The past day has been one long series of lessons to me in how poor a judge I am of character, but I suppose that we were all fooled by the Jackal. He is a murderer who hates to shed blood, a rebel against Emor who wishes to deal peacefully with the Emorians, and a Koretian patriot who admires Emorian law. The last point is the most important, of course. He wishes to retain the Emorian court system, and that alone may prevent Koretia from falling into war again and threatening our borders." 

Under ordinary circumstances, this news would have caused me to experience a thrill of relief that Koretia might conceivably retain some of the civilized ways that Emor had taught its barbaric neighbor. But I did not greatly care at this moment whether the Jackal would make a good ruler for Koretia. What concerned me was what the Jackal had done to Peter during his day-long imprisonment, and how it was that Peter had fallen into his hands. I asked cautiously, "Did he try to persuade you to give him the government?" 

"He did not, and as I said before, I only offered him the government once he had freed me. His sole wish was that I free Koretia, and he told me afterwards that he would not have taken the throne if I had offered it to him while I was his prisoner. You see, his mind works like mine in that respect. I could not give him the throne, and he could not take it, while there was any chance that I was motivated by fear rather than by my judgment as the Chara." 

It was the first time he had revealed his feelings during the imprisonment, but once again I shied away from the direct question and instead asked, "If you had not yet given Koretia its freedom, why did the Jackal release you?" 

"He consulted with Andrew, and Andrew recommended that he do so." 

There was a flatness to the Chara's tone that prevented me from ascertaining the truth of my earlier surmises about Peter's thoughts. Peter had moved away from the hot light of the window and was now standing in the cool darkness of the corner. His hair had dried, and his posture was straight; at any moment I imagined that his expression would relax as well. This being the case, I decided to be prudent in my reply. I said, as I would have said any time during the past twelve years, "Then you owe Andrew your life as well." 

Peter made a slight motion as though to move toward the door; I supposed this talk of Andrew had reminded him that his friend was still in the palace. It was likely that, if Andrew was staying in Koretia, Peter would want to spend much of his remaining time here with him. I must resign myself to not seeing the Chara for the next few days. 

Then Peter stopped, and his unreadable eyes met mine. For a moment more, he hovered between leaving and staying. Then the Great Chara of Emor slowly turned toward the wall and began sobbing like a broken child. 

o—o—o

The shock of this action hit me as though I had been struck by a rock-hard wave of black water. I had witnessed Peter cry ten years before, but I had not heard him. Now his hoarse, gasping sobs filled the room, bounced frantically from corner to corner, then weakly and wearily made their way back to their origin. 

The sound of my footstep near him caused Peter to turn his face from the wall some time later. His voice was ragged as he said, "I'm sorry. I thought that I could tell you all this calmly, but I ought to have known— I have never been able to hide anything from you, and I cannot hide this. I owe you the full story anyway, since you tried so hard to warn me that Andrew would—" 

He broke off into sobs once more, turning his face into the corner so that I would not see the water pouring from his dark eyes. I stood stiffly beside him, feeling that I ought to put a comforting arm around his shoulder, but uncertain of how to do this, since I had never treated him in such a manner before. Eventually, he turned his wet face half away from the wall, staring blindly at some vision rather than at me. 

"He betrayed me." Peter's voice lingered on the middle word, as though he had either not spoken it before or had not yet allowed himself to feel the full meaning. "He told me that he was taking me to see a friend who had information on the Jackal. He swore on his oath as an Emorian that I would come to no harm. Well, he was speaking the truth there, for he had already broken his loyalty oath to me. I was not a complete fool, Carle. I decided to wear a second dagger hidden in my thigh-pocket, in case we should meet treachery – but I had Andrew pack the dagger. When we arrived at the Jackal's lair, I found that the dagger was not there. All that I had was this—" 

Peter turned and swiftly unsheathed the dagger he had once given to Andrew. Staring down at it, he whispered, "He took it from my hand, and I let him have it because I trusted him. Then he handed it to the Jackal, and the Jackal took off his mask, and I knew . . . I knew . . ." 

This time, Peter did not turn away. He simply pressed his back against the corner and slid to the floor, bowing his head over the dagger he still clutched in his hand. I sat down beside him, and then, seeing that he would not stop this time, I placed my hand on top of his. 

This startled him out of his tears. He stared at me blankly for a moment before saying, in a somewhat calmer voice, "The whole of my imprisonment was like that. It stank of betrayal and death. The Jackal is— Well, you have met him, Carle. He is a merciful man whenever he can afford to be, but he does not hesitate to kill when he believes that he must. I am a coward; I know that now, and there is actually some comfort in knowing it, since I will feel less pain in condemning men to death, having borne the pain that they must bear. I was terrified by the thought of dying alone, surrounded by enemies. And what scared me even more than that was the temptation I felt to give the Jackal anything he wanted in return for my life. I was afraid that I would forswear my oath as Chara." 

"But you did not do so," I responded. My hand was still firmly placed over his. "You met your greatest fear, and you did not give in." 

"Oh, that was not the worst, Carle." Peter allowed his head to drop back against the wall. "That was far from the worst. Andrew's betrayal, the Jackal's threat – those were like boys' daggers in comparison to the blade I faced when the god spoke." 

For one terrible moment, I thought that Peter had lost his wits. Then I noticed the dark calmness of his eyes; he looked much like the Jackal had some time before. The Jackal might be self-deceptive, but I doubted that he was mad. Whatever tricks the rebel had used to convince Peter about himself, he had evidently not damaged Peter's mind. I asked, "And what did the Jackal say to you when he spoke for the god?" 

"He spoke _as_ the god, Carle, _as_ him. I could feel the god's presence. I can't describe it to you. Some day I'll tell you all that he said to me, but I will never be able to convey what it was like to be in the same room as something far greater than anything human, a master who is above even me. It was like facing the law; those are the only words I can use to describe it. And yet – by the Charas' wisdom, Carle, I haven't the words! – it was something greater than the law, something that went beyond every law I have ever known." 

Peter laid aside the dagger, unthinkingly slipping his hand out from under mine as he did so. Outside our window, I could hear the Emorian soldiers laughing and shouting, pleased by the news that they would not be slaughtered after all in what everyone had predicted would be a foul and bloody war. The faint smell of smoke drifted into my chamber – not the battle fires we had feared, but a celebration bonfire, like the ones that had been lit on the night of Peter's enthronement. The Chara was quite calm now, the tears dried on his face, but his eyes still held a dark expression I had never seen while he was living in Emor. 

He said, "I lied when I said earlier that Andrew is the Jackal's subject. He considers himself subject to the Jackal only when John speaks with the voice of the god. Andrew does not follow a human master at any other time. He delivered your letter to me against the Jackal's command." 

"Double treachery," I said bitterly, hearing my words echo an old prophecy. 

"That's what I said when it happened, but I knew even as I spoke that it wasn't true. It was the god who put my thoughts into words. The god said that he cared nothing for blood oaths to brothers or lands. Andrew's loyalty has always been above men or lands, though neither he nor I realized it till this night. The god comes first for him." 

"Well, he is Koretian," I said flatly. "You are Emorian – are you satisfied with his actions toward you? That is all that matters, not whether a Koretian god has blessed his deed." 

Peter bowed his head again. His hands went up to clutch the emblem brooch. "I told him I forgave him," he whispered. 

I waited. Finally he said, "But I can't understand it. I can't. It makes no more sense to me than the words that the god said. I was forced to accept the god's words because he was greater than me – I was forced to forgive Andrew because my love for him demanded it – but I feel as though I have spent this night slowly slipping into madness." 

I drew breath to speak then. Peter cut me off by saying shakily, "Wait. Wait. There is something I must tell you. I have considered doing so for some time, and this encounter with death makes me sure that I must. If I die before begetting an heir, or if my son is still quite young upon my death, I will need you to reveal to the next Chara the one other secret that the Chara passes on to the Chara To Be." 

"Chara, you know that I will be glad to do so," I said quietly, "but this may not be the time to discuss such a matter." 

"It is the one time when you will understand most clearly why this matter has been kept a secret." Peter buried his face in his palms. "Who was the twenty-fourth Chara?" 

It took me a moment to retrace my history lessons with Peter. "The Chara William's eldest son, Lionel." 

"No. Lionel had an older brother, Christopher, who became the twenty-fourth Chara. Lionel took the throne after the Chara Christopher killed himself." 

The sound of voices echoed in the corridor, barely audible through the thick door, but even so, Peter dimmed his voice as he raised his face and said, "You know that there have been Charas who lost their wits and allowed their balance of judgment to fall askew. Yet even then, all of them retained some sense of their duty; they all strived to give good judgments and to fulfill their oaths. But the Chara Christopher acquired a passion for a certain noblewoman and was driven mad with desire for her. She loved him in return, to the extent that she tried to kill her husband, who was the Chara's friend. Since she lived in the palace, she was brought to judgment under the Chara. Not only did he acquit her, but he condemned to death her husband under the charge of false witness. And then . . ." 

Peter's voice grew more hushed. His hand, groping for something to hold, tightened around the hilt of his dagger. "He woke the next morning and went to the court, and when it came time to give judgment, he found he could not. He had lost the look of the Chara. And so he went back to his quarters, unsheathed the Sword of Vengeance, and fell upon it." 

It was quite a while before I could speak. Finally I said, "Chara, this is a terrible story, one I will never tell to anyone except your heir. But I do not see what this has to do with Andrew or his god." 

"Just this, Carle: You have worried all these years that I would lose my balance of judgment by favoring my friends. But my own worry has been far different. I have feared that if I did not have, as the bedrock of my life, my friendships with you and Andrew, I would be unable to continue my work. I would go mad or I would die – perhaps I would even lose my sense of duty, as the Chara Christopher lost his. And now . . ." 

Peter was still holding the dagger. As his sobs returned, he began to draw himself tightly together once more and bring the dagger toward his chest. I reached out in an instant and took the dagger from his hand. He did not resist but simply clutched his brooch again and whispered, without looking up, "Carle, what bedrock do I stand on now? I have forgiven Andrew, but I can no longer trust him. I love him, but I cannot believe that he loves me. What should I do?" 

His body was cramped into a ball, but he raised his tear-stained face toward me, like a boy who is being beaten and appeals for help. I knew that a very few words from me would calm him and settle the matter. I could show him how he did not need Andrew's love to survive. I could rid him of the treacherous friend who had cut him to the bone and who might do so again in the future. 

"Chara," I said, "you cannot trust Andrew. That has always been true." 

His face changed. A gravity entered into his expression, a look of somber resignation to his burden. I had meant to finish my final words quickly, but something about his look caught me at the threshold. I had seen this expression before, though not on him. It was the look of his father, that sober man who did his duty well, but rarely smiled and never laughed. 

Few men are allowed the privilege of seeing the price of their words before they have spoken them. In the heavy moment that followed, I knew that I had been blessed with good fortune, and that I must allow this thought to remain with me rather than the bitterness at what I must do. 

I continued, discovering, as I spoke, what I must reveal to him: "As for the rest, there is only one way to judge a man truly, and that is by what he does when he has a choice. You know of one choice that Andrew made last night, but you do not know the full motives for his choice. When I gave Andrew the letter in the hope that he would deliver it to you, I knew that it would do no good to appeal to his sense of duty toward the Chara, and it did not occur to me to appeal to his sense of duty toward his enigmatic god. Instead, I told him to deliver the message to you if he loved you." 

Peter stared up at me, his breath rapid, his eyes wide. He said in a low voice, "He delivered it." 

I did not make any reply. I did not need to, for I could already see his body relaxing and his eyes growing light. After a moment, Peter reached over and took the dagger from my hand where I still held it. He said quietly, "Thank you for that missing witness, Carle. I don't know how I could have faced this without you to help me through. If Andrew loves me—" He stared down at the dagger, which he was holding blade down, his thumb rubbing the crown of the hilt. "If he loves me, then I will not demand more of him than he can give. His love is more than enough. And to show him that, I will give him back this dagger that I once had made for him as a sign of our friendship." 

His thumb slipped to the side of the hilt, and as it did so, I saw that, hidden amidst the intricate carvings of the bone and too small to be seen by the casual eye, was a decoration at the tip of the hilt: it was the royal emblem. 

I rose stiffly to my feet. "You ought to sleep now, Chara," I said. "Stay here; if you return to your chamber, everyone from Lord Dean to the court summoners will be knocking at your door. I will let the Jackal know where you are in case he needs you urgently." 

Peter nodded obediently. He was still staring down at the dagger, a smile on his lips. Unnoticed by him, I went to the door and slipped out into the corridor. 

There I found Andrew, standing against the wall opposite. 

I received some pleasure in finding that the night had marked Andrew as well. His eyes looked dazed and his expression, for once, was quite readable: he was bewildered and uncertain. I walked to the other side of the wide corridor and stood before Andrew, waiting. 

Despite his hesitant look, his voice was firm as he spoke. "I have come to apologize, Lord Carle." 

I was silent a moment before I said, "I am sure that it will comfort the Chara to receive your apology." 

"I haven't come to apologize to the Chara; I have come to apologize to you. From certain things which the Chara has told me, I believe that I have misjudged you." 

He stopped, having delivered the full text of his apology, and waited, his expression still unguarded. My silence was longer this time, for I felt the need to give exactly the right reply to his statement. Finally I said, "I believe that I also owe an apology, Andrew. When I first bought you, I had you gelded. That was a grave mistake on my part." 

Andrew's body relaxed. His hands, which had been hidden behind his back, fell to his sides. I waited until the moment when I could see relief clear in his eyes, and then added, "I ought to have had you killed." 

I do not think that, during my six years in the Chara's army, I ever delivered a blow that was so well-timed. Andrew's hands jerked back against the wall, clutching the stones for support; his breath rushed in as though he were a drowning man gasping for life. I said softly and swiftly, so that he would not have time to recover, "In the name of your god, you have broken the Chara so that he has been weeping and speaking of killing himself. And yet you come here with no apology for him – only an effort to return to his good graces by acting kindly toward me. Listen well to my words, Koretian: Your kind deserves no mercy. You believe yourself immune to the laws of men, so I will treat you as such. Know this: If I am ever able to find a way to kill you without the Chara knowing, I will do so." 

I turned away then, having seen in his eyes all that I needed to see for my satisfaction. Whether or not he believed my bluff, I had wounded him at a moment when he could least afford such a blow. I had never fought in such an underhanded manner before, but as I walked away I felt no pity for Andrew, none whatsoever. 

No punishment was too great for a man who would betray his master and friend.


	17. Sentences | 1

##  **_Law of Vengeance 5_**

##  **SENTENCES**

> _Sentences (law term):_ Passage within a law that presents the three levels of punishment, with reasons assigned for the different punishments.

  
**CHAPTER ONE**   
**986 a.g.l.**   


> _The three levels of punishment were designed because prisoners commit their crimes with a varying degree of guilt. The maximum penalty is called for in cases where the crime is committed willfully and with clear understanding. Those words are therefore used when the Chara issues his direct commands: the subject is alerted to the fact that the command is begun by the word "clear," and the ending is signaled by the word "understand." For further insurance, the last phrase comes in the form of a question, so that the subject is forced to acknowledge whether he has understood the command. Unfortunately, other laws are not usually presented to men in such a conspicuous manner, so that the charging of a crime is often accompanied by a devastating realization on the part of the prisoner as to what he has done._

  
o—o—o

It was a darkness I could not escape from, a darkness that ate all sound and light, a darkness that filled my lungs and heart so that I could not breathe and I could not feel pain or any other sensation. I knew that I had brought this darkness down upon myself in an attempt to escape from an image, a terrible image of a man suffering under the thrust of a blade. It was my fault that it had happened – I was to blame for his anguished expression – and the only way to escape that knowledge was to embrace this numbing, nullifying darkness and accept the loss of my spirit and will. At least I would not have to face what lay beyond the darkness. 

Something drew me upwards, though: a sense of a duty forgotten that required me to face the pain I had brought upon the man and myself. I struggled against the dark waters that enwrapped me, broke the surface of their embrace, and awoke to the sound of a hoarse, rasping cry that was my own. 

Hands touched me, grasping my arms. A soft voice said, "Carle! My dear, what is it?" I opened my eyes and looked into the face of Ursula, lying naked beside me in the orchard-keeper's cottage. 

For a moment I simply stared at her, my eyes focussed on the dark hair that trailed its way over her light-skinned shoulders. The fire at our feet had dwindled down to dying embers, and I could barely see the concern scribed on her face. Much more clear was the feel of her hands still gripping me, warming my flesh against the winter chill that now pervaded the cottage. 

"Peter," I whispered, still so caught in my dream that I spoke the Chara's given name. "I dreamt of Peter." 

I caught a glimpse of the pain in her eyes before her eyelids squeezed shut and she drew my head into the hollow of her shoulder. She murmured, "What shall we do?" 

I was silent for a while, feeling her bare skin beneath my hand and remembering what had taken place a few hours before. 

If I had been in my right mind at the time, I would have considered what occurred to be an exercise in humiliation. I was sixty-five years old, and I was holding in my arms a woman young enough to be my granddaughter. Moreover, I had never lain with a woman; what I knew of such matters, I learned that evening from Ursula. Yet somehow we came together with an easiness and inevitability that can only occur when two halves of a spirit find each other. There had been no guilt, no questioning, simply acceptance of a sharp, fierce joy. 

Now, though, all that had drained away, and I knew without asking that it would never return. Gone too was the innocent pleasure I had felt in Ursula's presence; gone was the base of our growing friendship. All this had forsaken me in the moment that I remembered Peter. All that remained, for me at least, was the crumbling ruin of my open affection and hidden desire for the Chara's Consort. 

But what remained also was my sense of duty – two duties, now in conflict with each another. Like Peter, I could not sleep with a woman and then simply abandon her when I discovered my mistake. I said, in a voice I tried to keep neutral, "I learned how to pass through the snowbound black border mountains when I was in the patrol. If we fled to Koretia, the Jackal would no doubt give us refuge." 

The shoulder that had been cushioning my head was suddenly jerked away as Ursula pulled herself back to look in my face. She said uncertainly, "Carle, you can't mean that! Is that really what you want?" 

Even in the dimness of the night I could see what her eyes held. I said with relief, "No. But I thought it was what you might want." 

She shook her head and pulled me back to where I had been. "Do you think I'm incapable of facing what I've done? I was raised by John, who risked his life in the rebellion for eight years in order to win Koretia's freedom. I don't have his type of courage, but I have enough strength to make my confession to Peter." 

"Our confession," I amended. Then, feeling her shiver, I raised my head, laid it beside hers on the pallet, and pulled up our cloaks to cover her shoulders. 

Ursula was staring at the ceiling of the cottage. Beyond it, all was quiet, the storm winds having died sometime during our sleep. From the slant of the moonlight squeezing through the cracks of the shutter, I knew that midnight must have passed several hours before. 

"How can we tell him?" asked Ursula. "It would have been hard enough on him if we'd simply told him about my excursion. If we reveal this to him while he's still ill, it will be as though we're striking a man in his sickbed." 

I held her hand and felt the pain grow within me. I experienced it with the detached interest that a soldier might feel as he watched a doctor saw off his leg. "I do not believe that it would help matters if we were to lie to him upon our return." 

Ursula sighed. "You would think that two intelligent people such as us would have thought of all this before. Truly, the gods' madness must have descended upon us." 

I wished that, like Ursula, I could blame the gods for what we had done. My mind, though, was on the law, and I was beginning to review in my mind every law book I had ever read. 

Seemingly Ursula had lived in this land long enough to think like an Emorian, or perhaps she just knew her husband well. She said in a low voice, "Peter always puts his duty above all else. Carle, will he have to—? Is there any law requiring him to—?" 

"No," I said firmly, having completed my review. "Adultery is not a crime in Emor. He will not be forced to place charges against us." 

Under my hand, I felt the sigh go through her body. "At least there is that. He once told me that the worst occasion of his life wasn't the night he faced his own death, but the evening he put Andrew on trial. It would hurt him more than anything to have to do the same to us." She was quiet, and then said, "We should go back now." 

In the fading light of the embers, I could see the dead skin about her eyes. Neither of us had received any sleep on the previous night, and I could imagine that I looked as weary as she did. "I think that we should sleep some more," I responded. "A few hours will make no great difference, and I cannot think of what is the right thing for us to do. It may be that your gods will send us an answer during the night." 

Ursula nodded. Like me, she was no doubt eager to return to the palace, but as we were still undecided about what to do, she could see the sense in waiting. The Chara had chosen a woman of wisdom to be his Consort. 

We lay back to sleep then, Ursula taking my shoulder this time as her cushion. The last thought I remember was my decision to wake at dawn. 

o—o—o

As it happened, both of us slept until noonday. What finally woke us was the explosion of sound as the Chara's soldiers kicked open the hut door. 

I had automatically shot up in bed, my head turning toward the doorway where I had abandoned my sword. The first thing I noticed was that the sword was no longer there. The second thing I noticed was that the Chara was standing in the doorway, looking down upon us with icy anger. 

He was wearing his ceremonial clothes, except for the Pendant of Judgment. At a guess, he had dressed for the court at his usual time of dawn, and then had left the palace hurriedly in order to come here. He must have adopted the speed of the vanguard to reach us so soon, and it looked as though he had brought part of the vanguard with him. Standing in the snow behind him was a unit of soldiers, all gawking at the spectacle before them. Amidst them – my heart sunk as I saw this – was the head court summoner. 

"Stay outside," barked the Chara at them, never moving his gaze from Ursula and me. A murmur came from someone in the crowd, and the Chara said abruptly, "Very well. You, but no one else." 

He stepped inside, and the soldiers behind him began to fall back. As the Chara closed the door, one figure sidled in: Andrew, his face expressionless, his eyes cool. 

Peter slammed the door after him, and then stood for a minute with his hand knuckle-white on his sword hilt. My arm had somehow made its way around Ursula's naked back, and I could feel her trembling, but I dared not look her way. 

When Peter finally spoke, his tone was deceptively light. "I must confess, Lord Carle, that I had often thought that if you ever broke the law, you would do it in a grand fashion. Yet even so, I am astounded. You must have spent weeks going through the law books in search of the most perfidious crime imaginable. I congratulate you on your thoroughness." 

Anger I might have expected, but this uncharacteristic ridicule left me speechless. It was Ursula who spoke finally in a tremulous voice. "Peter, it's all my fault. I—" 

"Lady Ursula." Peter did not raise his voice, but his tone cut off her words as though he had sliced at her with his sword. "I am well aware of how much of this is your fault. Only the fact that you are Lord Andrew's sister and the Jackal's ward prevents me from entering a charge against you as well. Do not say anything which might tempt me to change my mind." 

A small whimper escaped from Ursula. Andrew, who was standing halfway between Peter and the sleeping pallet, switched his gaze from me to her but did not move. I said, my throat dry in the winter air, "What charge do you plan to enter against me, Chara?" 

A cold, hard amusement appeared in Peter's eyes. "It is good to see that you have not changed your ways, Lord Carle. I find you in bed with my wife, and the first thing you ask about is the law. Well, I would not want to shame you by showing less knowledge of the law than my old tutor. You will be pleased to know that I still remember what the third crime is of the Great Three and that I will be entering that charge against you." 

Ursula could not have known of what he was speaking, but I suppose that my grip must have tightened on her, for she cried out, "Peter, _please_ . . ." 

Her voice cut off once more as Peter's malevolent gaze fell upon her. "Consort to the Chara," he said, "I would appreciate it if you would extract yourself from the arms of your lover. It is not a sight that I find pleasant." 

Andrew moved then, walking forward to Ursula's side of the bed and unfastening his winter cloak as he came. He knelt down beside Ursula, and as my arm fell from her, he wrapped his cloak around her shoulders. His unfathomable eyes met mine briefly; then he helped Ursula to her feet and guided her, cloak-swaddled, back to where he had stood before. 

His action had given me a few moments to think. Now I said, in as deferent a voice as I had ever managed, "Chara, I will not try to excuse what Lady Ursula and I have done; there can be no defense for such an act. But you have been betrayed before and have forgiven. Can you not find a way to forgive us as well?" 

"Perhaps," said Peter, "I have grown weary of being betrayed by those I love. At least the previous times I was betrayed in order to save a land, not for the sake of a few hours of lust. In any case, Lord Andrew has shown his loyalty today by guiding me to you." 

I looked back at Andrew. He was cradling Ursula against his body, but his eyes were as cold as before. I said, "Guiding you." 

"Of course," replied Peter. "I am not a fool, Lord Carle. When my wife suddenly disappears in the company of my High Lord, I am not going to entrust the delicate task of finding them to one of my paid spies – especially not when one of the Jackal's thieves offers his service. It appears, however, that his talents for espionage were wasted. In light of your own training, I would have thought that you would have shown more intelligence than to seek a hideout that was in your own village, on your own land, and in a hut whose fire-smoke could be seen for miles. Nor have you remained alert to danger. From certain subtle comments that Lord Andrew has made, I take it that he actually walked in on you during the night. It seems that you and Lady Ursula were too busy with other matters to notice." 

I thought of the missing sword, and something about Andrew's cold gaze bore into me, as though he had thrust a blade of ice into my guts. Andrew did not waver in his gaze, but he said softly, "Chara . . ." 

Peter glanced his way. "Very well. I will leave you to help Lady Ursula prepare for her return; she will ride with you. You," he said, switching his gaze, "will come with me. Since you have committed this crime on village soil, I have a fancy to treat you to a village tradition. You will return to the palace in an open cart, so that all my subjects may see the lawbreaker whom I once trusted with the High Lordship." 

There was a long silence, punctuated only by the sound of Ursula softly weeping against Andrew's shoulder. Finally I said, in a voice too numb to sound anything but matter-of-fact, "May I dress, Chara?" 

A smile stole onto Peter's face then, a crooked smile, a dark smile, which I had never seen on his face, but which I recognized as I might recognize a man who was kin to me. "Yes, Lord Carle, you may dress," he replied with light derision. "And you may count that as the one mercy you will receive from me." 

o—o—o

The cart was not used in the end. I witnessed, from a distance, a passionate argument on the subject between Peter and Andrew – at least, the Chara showed passion. Andrew remained aloof and quiet, inserting an occasional word between Peter's outbursts. He pointed to Ursula once; I could guess that his argument was that he did not want his sister further disgraced by having her lover paraded before the people. So I was allowed to ride my own horse back, surrounded on all sides by soldiers. 

We went at a leisurely pace and arrived at the palace around midnight. The entire palace was still awake, eager to catch sight of the Chara who had left his palace in order to defend the honor of his Consort. I, however, was spared the sight of the crowd at the east palace gate. I was brought in through the north gate, in the manner of criminals; the only people who witnessed my walk of shame to the dungeon were a few wide-eyed guards. So it was not as humiliating an arrest as it might have been. 

But there, I knew, my good fortune ended. It did not take Peter's final words in the hut to tell me that he would show me no mercy for what I had done. I had already known that when he presented me with the smile I always wore in the moments before I sentenced my slaves to terrible punishment. 

Andrew was right: I had taught the Chara my ways too well. 

On this first night of my imprisonment, I sat on the straw-filled floor of my cell, staring up at the barred window of the iron door. Through it I could see the hazy smoke of the torchlight, and I could hear the talk and groans of the other prisoners. The dungeon guards, at least, had meted out a small measure of mercy to the former High Lord: they had placed me in a cell separate from the other prisoners and had allowed me to keep my cloak, which I soon realized could well be the object that saved me in these dank, winter-bound quarters. 

In the end, I decided that the only escape from the horrid images that raced through my mind was sleep, but it was not long before I woke again. What woke me was one of the guards kicking me with great force, and the first thing I saw as I opened my eyes was Peter smiling down at me, cold-eyed. 

I managed to struggle to my feet before the guard's foot lashed out again. The cloak slipped from my body as I did so, and I began to shiver, but I dared not reach down. Peter was leaning back against the wall next to the door through which the guard was leaving. His arms were folded, and a spark of light from the outside torch broke and scattered from his emblem brooch. He saw me notice the brooch, and his smile grew darker. 

My voice was as hoarse as a dying man's when I finally spoke. "Chara—" 

"Peter." He cut me off with soft smoothness. "You are to call me Peter. I have always been amazed over the years how you would follow the most trivial customs connected with the Chara's office, yet you would never allow me to have the things I wanted most from you. You must have known how much it hurt me that you would never call me by my name. Now, of course, your mode of address makes no difference to me, except that it will give me a great deal of pleasure to see you actually obeying my wishes for once. Do you understand?" 

I was silent for a moment. I suppose that some deep, hidden part of me had always envisioned a day to come when I would call Peter by his name – a day of great joy for both of us. It was perhaps that secret desire which made his bidding all the more terrible. "Yes, Peter," I said dully. 

Peter's gaze did not waver from mine; he was as motionless in his mockery as he was in his judgments. "Now, Lord Carle— I call you Lord Carle in order to emphasize our formal relationship, though of course you are no longer a lord. I spoke to James a short while ago and informed him of my wish to remove you from the council. He seemed quite agreeable to the idea. Your destruction, at least, is the one action on which he and I can agree. I also informed him of my decision to appoint him as my new High Lord, and perhaps in thankfulness for this favor, he has transferred you into my care for your trial. So, as your judge, it is my duty by law to inform you of what will happen to you . . . just in case you are unfamiliar with such matters. Do you have any questions so far?" 

"No, Peter." I was standing stiffly at alert against the wall opposite him, much as I remembered Andrew facing me whenever I punished him. 

"You have been charged, Lord Carle, under the Law of Vengeance. I would have liked to have charged you with disobedience – it would have been so much more fitting – but I suppose that there is some appropriateness to this charge as well. Did you know that no one has committed this crime for four hundred and eighteen years? I suspect you of checking the Case volumes to find which crime was most in need of being revived. At any rate, you ought to be happy to die as a result of such a law, since you have never loved anything more than the law books. But I am racing ahead of myself. Do you have any questions yet?" 

"No, Peter." My shivering was increasing. Having finally arrived, winter had apparently conquered the land quickly, for the cell seemed to be growing colder by the moment. 

"You will be tried in private. I would dearly love to bring you to the Court of Judgment, but James advises against it, and I would not want to damage my relationship with my new High Lord. There are three possible sentences if you are found guilty. First, there is mercy. Well, I suppose that, some time between now and the trial, I may wake up one morning with forgiveness in my heart, but somehow I doubt it. The second sentence is enslavement. That one tempts me a great deal; I would enjoy seeing a slave-master beat you in the manner that you beat Andrew. And the third sentence is death by the sword, which is a gentler punishment than you deserve. So I really think that, whichever punishment I choose, you will be receiving my mercy, don't you?" 

"Yes, Peter." All my concentration now was on continuing to answer his questions without allowing my voice to break. 

"Is that a confession? I mustn't forget to mention that you will be allowed to provide your own defense and that you may ask the summoners to call witnesses on your behalf. I will be the witness against you. And I should add that you will have plenty of time to think of what you are going to say to me when you face my judgment." 

He pushed himself away from the wall and went over to the door, but before knocking on it he said softly, "I recall from my own imprisonment in Koretia that the worst part of the ordeal was simply the long wait I had to bear before my execution. Since you have always said that you are willing to suffer for the sake of the Chara, far be it from me to deprive you of anything less than I endured. I will make your suffering an example to all generations of Emorians to come, so that you may be what you always wished to be: a model of loyalty and service. I have asked the court summoners to delay your trial until thirty days from now. I hope you appreciate the special care I am taking to make this experience an education to you in the finer points of the Law of Vengeance." 

I thought of those words for some time after he left. I thought also of my dreams of serving the Chara, and of the trust I had painstakingly nurtured in young Lord Peter. But the mind can be perverse, and the thought which most haunted me that night was this: that in one month's time I would be placed under the high doom for showing too much love to the Chara's wife, while the man who had led the Chara to what might have been his death walked free in the palace above.


	18. Sentences | 2

**CHAPTER TWO**  
**987 a.g.l.**  


> _The various punishments mentioned in Emorian judgment have evolved over the centuries. In early times, for example, exile was a common punishment, but this was eventually abolished as being too harsh a sentence. Symbolically, though, every prisoner undergoes "exile" from the comforts of the law during the period before his trial. In this way, many a prisoner is forced to recognize the privileges of the life he led before he was foolish enough to commit his crime._

  
o—o—o

Death is easy, compared to what I felt that night; it was not the sort of pain I could endure for long. By morning, I knew that my mind would not survive to the end of my month's wait unless I found a way to occupy myself. I therefore placed a request with one of the dungeon guards that I be allowed to receive paper, pen, and ink. 

These items arrived late that evening with a note attached to them – unsigned, for it did not need to be signed.  


> _Why don't you work on that memoir you have always talked about writing, the one in which you describe how to be a loyal Emorian? I, for one, would be interested in hearing what you have to say on the subject._

  
I took Peter at his word and began my memoir that night. By the end of the following day, it was clear that this would be my only occupation during the month to come. I had not developed strong relationships during my palace years with any except Peter and his father, but still, there were men in the palace whom I might have called my friends. None came to see me. No one came to see me except the man I least wanted to see. 

The third night of my imprisonment was when I awoke from a dream of my death to find him standing over me. 

It took me a moment to catch my breath, a long moment in which I wondered what sounds of fear he had heard me make in my sleep. Then I propped myself up on one elbow and said in my most chilly voice, "You pick a strange hour to visit, Lord Andrew." 

He did not speak at first. I could see his outline reflected against the blood-red torchlight at the cell window, but his face was in shadow, and I could not read his eyes. I waited, therefore, to see what his voice would tell me. 

He said quietly, "I am sorry to have woken you, Lord Carle." 

What his voice contained was a note of warning so sharp as to cause me to rise to my feet immediately. I did so with as much dignity as I could manage in my stiffened condition, and then said curtly, "If you have any mercy, Lord Andrew, you will not address me by the title that is no longer mine." 

There was no reply. Andrew had always possessed a talent for remaining still and silent, a talent he used to great advantage to goad others into speaking first. Now, with my defenses at their weakest, I felt myself being lured into his quiet trap. "So what is your purpose here?" I demanded. "Have you come to witness the spectacle of the former High Lord in bondage? Or to chastise me for seducing your sister? Or perhaps you have come to use that dagger against me." 

All my wit seemed to have deserted me; I could do no more than to make wild accusations. But in the next moment I realized that I had not been so wild as I thought; Andrew placed his hand to his side and slowly drew out his dagger. 

He held the blade upright as though marking the boundary between us. It remained hidden in blackness, a dark weapon held by a shadowed man. I thought to myself that, if he expected me to beg for my life, he would find that in one respect, at least, I had not changed in eleven years. 

He said, "If you want me to do so, then I will. But I thought that you would be capable of committing the act yourself." And with a flick of the wrist he turned the dagger so that its hilt was facing me. 

My hand reached out slowly and took the dagger. As Andrew released the blade, my hand fell to my side, as though I were carrying an object of great weight. I said, keeping my voice steady, "Is it the Chara's wish that I do this?" 

"The Chara does not know I am here. But I thought you might wish to have the means to a quick death." 

An easiness spread over me. I knew where I was now with my oldest enemy. I could not manage one of my smiles, but I allowed sarcasm to enter my voice as I said, "I thank you for your consideration in such a matter, Lord Andrew, but three days are not sufficient to cause me to forget that the quickest death in this land comes from the sword of the Chara's executioner. You need not have troubled yourself to try to persuade me to give up my last remaining month." 

Again Andrew was silent, and I wondered what excuse he would offer for his conduct. This was the man, I thought, whose first words to me had been the announcement that he had taken a blood vow like the one that doomed Adrian. For Adrian's sake I had bought Andrew and tried to make him into the law-loving Emorian that my dead friend had been. Instead, Andrew had shown no gratitude for the trouble I had taken with him, no acknowledgment that he might be able to learn from pain. He had spurned the hard discipline of the law, turned his face from all that was good about Emor, and instead proved as treacherous and murderous as the men who killed Adrian. 

I felt my wit returning, my desire to hurt the man who had spent his life trying to destroy my friendship with Peter and who had now succeeded in his task. I was aided in my desire by my awareness that nothing which Andrew said or did now could add to the pain I already felt. 

His voice was very soft when he finally replied. "There will be no swordsman. The Chara has requested and received permission from the council to give you a Slave's Death." 

The coldness of the cell, which had penetrated my skin long before, now entered my heart and took hold of it, capturing its prisoner. I felt a weakness in my knees and longed to sink to the floor. But Andrew was still standing before me, waiting to see how I would take the news. With more effort than it would have required for me to plunge the blade into my heart, I raised Andrew's dagger and offered it to him, saying in a voice that I knew was too dull to hide what I was feeling, "I do not need this, Lord Andrew. I am the Chara's servant, to death and beyond, and in whatever manner he wishes that death to take." Then, as he took back the dagger, I stepped to the side, forcing him to turn in such a manner that the torchlight revealed his eyes. 

He had not expected my response, I knew: I caught him with his gaze unguarded and full of respect. I supposed that it was impossible for a man who refused to take an oath of loyalty to any master to understand the lengths to which men will go to keep such oaths. 

Of course he tried to deny his surprise, saying, "I did not think that you would need the dagger. I thought that someone should offer it to you, though, and there did not seem to be anyone left to do so except myself." 

To cover the heaviness of my breath, I said, "Lord Andrew, the more consideration you show toward me, the lower my opinion of you sinks. First you rush to my side to give me the news that you know will hurt me the most, and then you remind me that I have been deserted by my friends. If you are trying to pay me back for what I did to you when you were my slave, you have long ago succeeded. I would appreciate it if you would not indulge in excessive cruelty." 

I had spoken at first with firm irony, but by the end of my speech, my voice sank into weariness. Andrew took one step backwards, then another, till he was standing against the wall. I waited to see whether he would fold his arms as Peter had done, but instead he placed his hands behind his back. I had a sudden, vivid memory of the first time I had seen him, standing hand-bound on the slave-seller's platform. Despite his bonds, I had sensed in him great energy and spirit and a tremendous ability to harm others. He had been eight years old at the time. 

His voice grew higher, as it only did at times when he was beginning to lose control of himself. "Carle, ten years ago I stood in a cell like this, and the Chara looked at me with the same hatred that you have in your eyes, because I had led him to his death. That was the worst moment I will ever live. Do you think it gives me pleasure to replay that scene, to come here and look again upon a man who is facing death because of what I have done? As the god is my witness, I came here to offer you what help I could." 

"Seeing as your god has a custom of commanding you to betray your friends, I do not find that oath convincing," I replied. "Your help to me so far has consisted of spying upon me, stealing my sword, telling the Chara of my crime, and leading him to me. If you contemplate helping me in any other way, I must decline your kind offer." 

It took Andrew some time to formulate his reply. When he finally spoke, his eyes were steady on mine and his voice had returned to its usual dispassionate tone. "I went in search of you because Ursula is my sister, and I feared that she might be in trouble, though not the sort I found. I took your sword because, on the night after I betrayed the Chara to the Jackal, I nearly took my own life, and I did not want to allow you the opportunity to make the same mistake. I told the Chara what had happened because I thought he would be able to handle the matter better than I could, and because I was sure that he would forgive you, as he has forgiven me twice. And I led him to your hideout, rather than allowing him to go there alone, because he was wearing the Sword of Vengeance, and I had begun to fear that he would use it. 

"You have no reason to believe any of this as far as your own welfare is concerned. But you must believe this: I would not have done any of this if I had known that it would break the Chara in the way that it has. I . . . respect him too much for that." 

He paused then, as a hand-bound prisoner waits for judgment, or as a thief waits in the night for his victim. Nothing about his expression could tell me which he was. But at that moment, my battle-weariness overcame me. I laid down my arms and waited to see whether he would raise his blade against me. 

"Three facts I have never doubted about you, Lord Andrew," I said. "Those three are that you are treacherous, that you are deceitful, and that, according to your own standards at least, you love the Chara. So I must accept what you say as true: that, like me, you believed that the Chara's patience extended further than it did. It seems that we have both made a tragic mistake." 

I saw then a sight that I supposed few people besides Peter had ever seen: Andrew's cold and blank face cracked like ice in the spring, revealing lines of pain and regret. Not for me, I knew, but for what had happened to Peter. 

"We are allies in our love of the Chara, then," I continued. "I do not see what good that does us, though. The deed is done: I betrayed the Chara's trust, he learned of that betrayal, and now, as the law allows him, he has charged me with my crime. Whatever pain I may have caused him in his private life, he is at least continuing to act in the manner of a Chara." 

"Is he?" asked Andrew. His dispassionate expression had returned, but there was a new openness in his eyes. "That is the issue which I think is bothering Lord James. He came to me this evening and told me about the council meeting; that is the only reason I knew of it, for it was a closed meeting. James said that he voted in favor of your receiving the Slave's Death because it was the Chara's wish and because James considered it a court matter rather than the council's province. But since then, he said, he has been wondering something that he dares not ask the law researchers: whether the Chara has ever made such a request before. I told him that only you could answer that question." 

I reflected inwardly that James had conveniently reconciled himself to the boundaries between the Chara and his council just at the moment which would cause me the most damage. But all that I said was, "I believe that the last Chara to make such a request was the Chara Purvis. At any rate, the Chara Peter has never asked for this before." 

"And yet he asks for it now, when it is a matter of private vengeance. I think that James's instincts are right in finding this a worrisome sign. It is one thing for the Chara to show no mercy toward you; it is another thing for him to misuse his office in doing so. If the Chara has lost his balance of judgment—" He stopped there, and our eyes met. 

I asked, "Did you tell Lord James this?" 

"I did not want to discuss the matter with him until I had received your permission to help you." 

"Lord Andrew, whether you wish to help me or hinder me, there is little I can do to stop you." 

"I could certainly hinder you without your permission, but I cannot help you without your cooperation. Your very name is enough to cause the Chara to fly into a rage. My only hope is to try to make him forget you and remember his duties. It may be that I will need to do so when he is in your presence, so I would like your promise that if the three of us meet together, you will remain silent. Only then would I have any hope of changing his mind." 

"You ask a great deal, Lord Andrew," I responded. "However, I am unarmed in any case, so I deliver myself into your hands. Do as you wish, and I will not interfere – as long as what you are doing benefits the Chara. If I see that you are simply trying to regain the Chara's friendship, I will not assist you in that." 

Andrew shook his head. "As to that, what little friendship the Chara feels toward me is not a result of love for me but of hatred toward you. He has lost all trust in me, which makes it hard for me to see how I can help you. It was only my friendships with the Jackal and the Chara that allowed me to reconcile them ten years ago." 

"I recall the price that the Chara had to pay for that peace," I remarked dryly. "I expect that you will exact a price from me that is no less heavy. But if you can bring the Chara to peace with himself, then it does not matter to me whether I live or die, whether the Chara regards me as his friend or his enemy. For that reason, and that reason only, I ally myself with you." 

Andrew stared at me for a moment with his dark eyes. He said finally, "Then take this as a token of our alliance, for if anyone brings peace, it will not be you or me, but the god. Whether you mean to or not, by making an alliance with me, you make one with my master, and he has greater powers to help you than I do." 

And he handed me his god-mask badge. 

o—o—o

The one pain I had been spared after that first day was the sight of the wrathful Chara. I imagine that Peter came to realize this negligence on his part, for at the end of the first week, he paid me what was the start of a long series of nightly visits. 

The first thing I did after the guard roughly pulled me from the floor – I did not sleep well these days, but it was several hours after midnight – was look to Peter's neckline. The emblem brooch was gone: Peter's tunic-flap was peeled back, bare of all ornament. My eyes rose to Peter's face, only to find that he too was taking an interest in bodily adornments. 

I felt my chest grow heavy. I had pinned Andrew's god-mask badge above my heart out of a vague sense of duty, since it was clear that this matter was of great importance to the Ambassador. It had not occurred to me that Peter would ever see it. 

Peter caught my look; I supposed that I had lost all ability to hide my feelings from my face. His dark smile lurched into place. "Oh, you needn't worry," he said. "Andrew told me that he had visited you – which was wise, as I am having him followed these days. There's a limit to how far I'm prepared to trust my friends any more." 

"You allowed him to stay at the palace," I said, folding my arms against my chest, not in defiance but in an attempt to stay warm. 

"Surrounded as I am by traitors, I find a modicum of comfort in having one traitor by my side who at least acknowledges what he is. It is fascinating – you have always been interested in the connivances of my subjects, so don't you think this is fascinating, Lord Carle? – that Andrew's treachery always ends up bringing about good, while your loyalty always ends in destruction." 

I had been standing, in what I hoped was a dignified manner, but now I gave up the pretense and leaned my shoulder against the cell wall. The stones' cold cut through my body, relieving somewhat the numbness I was once more beginning to feel. 

"Take as an example the time eleven years ago that you decided to take Andrew back into your care," continued Peter. His eyes had shifted to watch my progress, but otherwise his body and smile remained motionless. "You did it only for the best of motives, of course. You wished to show your love for me, and you wished to help Andrew, for whom even being in the same room with you was a living death. I don't think you ever realized how close I came on that night to ending our friendship. I'm not sure I realized it either. I cannot accuse you of a self-deception any greater than I've practiced myself. I, the Great Chara, trained to see through to the true natures of men, told myself that your love for me made up for the fact that you are a selfish, sadistic, perfidious man." 

I leaned my cheek against the wall; the added cold set me trembling. With any luck, I would die of chill-fever before the end of this conversation. 

"No comment, Lord Carle?" said Peter. 

"What can I say, Chara?" 

"Peter," he reminded me softly. 

"Peter. You know me better than I know myself. I must accept your judgment on this matter." 

"I doubt that." A new bitterness entered into Peter's voice. "I've been Chara for twenty years, and you've never accepted my judgment on any matter concerning yourself. I can't help but wonder at what point you'll recognize that you have no choice but to accept my judgment this time. As you die your slow death, Lord Carle, at what point will the realization come that the Chara's judgment cannot be reversed? I would give anything to be there when that knowledge reaches you. I am only sorry that my duties will prevent me from attending your death for the full week." 

I stared at the ground, my arms hugging my chest, thinking to myself that the death which the Chara's torturers were planning for me would be merciful compared to what Peter was doing to me now. An odd lightness entered my body, and I welcomed it as an old friend. It was the feeling that had come upon me forty-six years before, when I was trapped in the snowbound border mountains and began to die. 

"Is there anything I can do for you, Lord Carle?" Peter's voice was so deceptively gentle that my gaze flew up, but he was still regarding me with his mocking smile. "I know that Andrew had a warm blanket sent to you yesterday. Of course he has had much experience in the difficulties of dungeon life, and it is so like him to be kind to the man who abused him. But is there anything else I can do for you? Would you like some books? I could send down your law books. I imagine that the volume describing a Slave's Death would make for edifying reading." 

"No!" I had lost all control of my voice, I knew, but I was beyond caring whether I maintained any dignity. Peter must already know how well his words had succeeded in their purpose. "Thank you, but no. I require nothing." 

"Well, do let me know if you change your mind," said Peter, finally moving to signal the guard. "You have plenty of time to think the matter through." 

o—o—o

I received one other visitor that month: the High Lord came to my cell. 

There was something oddly reassuring about the sight of James standing in his flame-red tunic, his hand dancing over the hilt of his sword. Anger flashed in his eyes as I bowed to him; he must have thought it my usual sarcasm. His voice was even, though, as he said, "I have come to tell you that, at the Chara's wish, the council has expunged you from its scroll of lords. The council clerk's records will no longer show that you ever served as a council lord." 

During the first few days of my imprisonment, I would have reacted to this blow by slicing forward at James with my wit. But I had had enough experience now with mockery to make even my own ridicule bitter to bear. I said quietly, "I see. Thank you for bringing me this news, High Lord." 

I could tell that James was assessing my words to try to dig out their deeper, darker meaning. After a minute, he said, his voice as firm as before, "I persuaded the council to vote in favor of this action—" 

"High Lord." There was no passion in my voice as I interrupted him; that had long since burnt out. All that was left was the dull throbbing I felt every time a new blade bit into me. I chose my words carefully. "You and I have always had great respect for each other, despite our differences. If you wish to retain your respect for me, I ask that you not say anything which might bring me past the point of endurance. I am not as strong as I was when you saw me last." 

James's eyes widened, and I suppose it was at that point that he actually took in my appearance. I had always been skillful at hiding my inner thoughts, so I imagine that, even at this moment, I looked somewhat better than the corpse I felt. 

James swallowed and said hesitantly, "I'm not going about this in the right way; I thought that you would prefer formality. What I meant to say was that I had the council approve your removal from the lists so that I would have an excuse to come see you, without the Chara growing suspicious." 

I was silent for a moment before I said, "You transferred me into the Chara's care." 

"That was when he was still the Chara of Great Mercy." James scowled at the floor, nudging the straw there with his foot. "Do you know that the Chara has not handed down a single sentence of mercy since your arrest? People are beginning to notice. Brian tells me that several of the court officials have come to him, asking whether they can do anything to help the Chara; this is their reaction to his harsh judgments. The Chara inspires great love in his subjects, but that love will cease if he does not reform his ways." 

"What the people think of the Chara is of little interest to me," I said. "Whether the Chara does his duty is of great interest. I take it you believe, as Lord Andrew does, that the Chara has lost his balance." 

James looked up then and raised his chin. "Lord Andrew thinks that you have received your just vengeance, for the Chara is simply judging his prisoners in the same manner that you always judged them. I cannot say that I am unhappy to find you where you are now. I despise the way in which you have taught the Chara to manipulate the law in order to be a tyrant over his subjects, and I think that the Chara would be better off without your advice. But it is a question of two evils, and the greater evil would be to have the Chara misuse his powers in his judgment of you. So, while I'd much rather see you sent off to enslavement or death, my duty requires that I help you." 

I managed a faint smile then. "Amidst all the uncertainties of my life, you are a rock, High Lord. I can always count on receiving from you the truth, blade-naked. So I have acquired my second reluctant ally. Tell me what I can do to help you." 

James unclipped his sword; without a word, he sat cross-legged in the corner of the cell, his arms resting on the sheath. As I joined him on the floor, he said, "I want you to tell me what the Chara has said to you during his visits. Every word, as much as you can recall." 

I was silent. After a while, James said, "You will show greater loyalty to him by telling me." 

"I do not doubt that," I replied quietly. "It is just that I need a moment to gather my courage for this." I paused a moment more while James watched me, his expression uncertain; then I opened my mouth and began to give him my witness. 

By the time that my first few sentences were spoken, James had shown enough sense to focus his gaze away from my face, so it was only my voice that broke open to reveal the pain within. The words travelled out of me as filthy as they had entered, and it was as though I was experiencing them for the first time. Not even my sixty-five years of self-discipline could keep my voice steady. I suppose that of all the things I had done for the Chara over the years, none was harder than this: to reveal to my enemy James the feelings I would not even have shown to Peter when he loved me most. 

When I was through, James said nothing for a while, and when he finally spoke, he was merciful enough to address only my words, not what he had seen behind them. "It's worse than I thought. He doesn't speak like this to anyone else; he appears quite normal, except in what he does. I'm not at all sure now that I can do anything that will save you – yet I must try, if I'm to save the Chara." 

He was sitting under the one patch of torchlight, using his sword to dig at the filthy straw on which we were seated, and doing so with an intense look of concentration that was familiar to me. It was ironic, I thought, that the same determination of purpose I had sought to break in him was now one of my only hopes for salvation. 

James picked up a piece of straw, sliced it lengthwise into two, and contemplated the two halves, saying, "Mercy and vengeance. If Peter becomes the Chara of Great Vengeance, what hope has he of retaining the respect of the people?" 

"Lord James!" I said sharply; then I remembered to whom I was speaking and lowered my voice. "High Lord, I fear that you do not realize the true danger that has arisen. The Balance of Judgment remains the same always, but every Chara determines his own balance and his own standards for judgment. The rest of us do not have the Chara's gift for judgment; the only way in which we can tell whether the Chara is remaining a true servant of the law is by determining whether he is remaining loyal to his standards. If the Chara Anthony were judging this case, then I would not fight the Chara's decision to place me under the high doom. But the Chara Peter is departing from his own standards in this case, and that is what matters, not whether the people like what he is doing, not whether I live or die." 

James was now staring at me with eyes uncertain and unfocussed, as though something that he had been sure was firmly set before him had suddenly shifted position. "Nor whether the Chara is undergoing private suffering?" he asked hesitantly. "You told me that once." 

I said slowly, "When I told you that, I had momentarily forgotten the Justification for the Law of Vengeance. It matters a great deal that the Chara can no longer endure the suffering he has undergone, and I am only now becoming aware of how great a sacrifice he has made over the years, not only for the sake of Emor but also for the sake of his friends. Nonetheless, as the Law of Vengeance makes clear, sacrifice to some degree must be made. A friend of mine once gave up his life, out of service to the Chara, and the last words that he spoke to me came from the end of the passage on the Chara's burdens: the sentences describing how both the Chara and his people must be prepared to sacrifice all that they have for the sake of the law. In the case of the Chara, his duty sometimes requires him to do that which will cause him to be hated by his subjects, and this may be one such case. Some people, you know, would prefer to see that I die." 

James stilled the tip of his sword, which had been digging into the dirt floor. "If you are referring to me—" 

"I am referring to the Koretian Ambassador; I remain suspicious of his motives for entering into this case. You are a good judge of men, High Lord. Do you believe that Lord Andrew truly wishes to help the Chara? If he believed that he must destroy the Chara in order to serve his god, I have no doubt that Lord Andrew would do so." 

A strangely tolerant smile appeared on James's face. "You know, you and the Ambassador are a great deal alike." 

I must have gaped at him, for James emitted a laugh. "You are, truly. Perhaps that's why you find it so hard to understand Lord Andrew; I think that men sometimes find it hardest to perceive themselves. It's your own fault, though. Have you ever taken the trouble to ask Lord Andrew why he does what he does?" 

"Certainly," I said uneasily, remembering the slippery steps of the palace, where we had held our single, brief conversation on that subject. 

"Well, you can't have been listening too clearly to what he told you, or perhaps you didn't ask the right questions. I once asked Lord Andrew what he used to make his decisions, if he didn't have the law to depend on. He told me that the religious rites of Koretia are based on the concept of sacrifice – of giving up your life if the god demands it. In his case, he said, he discovers the god's wishes by following the commands issued to him by his love for his friends. He said that that love sometimes requires him to hurt his friends, just as it might require a master to punish a servant whom he cared for, and that whenever this happens he risks losing his friendships. Nonetheless, he said, he is willing to sacrifice his friends' love for him if in doing so he can help them." 

An image came to me then of Andrew facing the contempt of the Chara in order to deliver a message that would save Peter's life – a message he delivered in obedience to his god but also for a second reason. . . . I thrust the image aside – I had no energy to spare for solving the riddle of Andrew – but I found myself murmuring, "That sounds familiar . . ." 

"It ought to," said James, rising to his feet. "It's how you just described the Chara's duties to me. I don't want to be critical toward you when you can least afford it, but perhaps you would have proceeded further in understanding Lord Andrew over all these years if you'd bothered to ask yourself _why_ the Chara loves him. You might find that the answer lies close to home." 

o—o—o

On the evening of the twenty-ninth day of my imprisonment, Andrew came to visit me once more. 

As usual, his face was without expression, but I could read the look in his eyes. I knew that the defeat I saw there was not the result of anything I had done, so my question to him was purely of form: "Well, Lord Andrew, have you come to bring me news, or simply to offer comfort to a dying man?" 

He closed his eyes then and leaned back against the cell wall. I was standing close to him, so I could see the blood throbbing quickly in the vein of his neck. It was as though it was he who was seeing his death shadow, and not I. He opened his eyes finally and said quietly, "I am sorry to say that I have no news, sir, nor comfort either, except that I have persuaded the Chara to allow you a Free-man's Death." 

I was still a moment before saying, "It is more than I expected. I thank you." 

"It is far less than I hoped for. I have been trying—" The calmness in his voice fled from him suddenly, like a wild bird escaping its cage, and he shoved his body hard against the iron door of the cell. For a moment I glimpsed, as I had on a few occasions before, how great the passion was that he had contained when he was enslaved as a child. Then he said, calm again, "I have been trying various ways to prevent the Chara from carrying out his plans, but nothing I have done has worked, and it seems unlikely that there will be any miraculous reprieve tomorrow. I thought that you would want to know." 

"I am an old man, Lord Andrew, and death in itself is not too hard an enemy for me to face. You have given me reprieve enough in seeing that I do not receive a death of the highest dishonor." I paused a heartbeat before adding, "One thing more I must ask of you. Will you tell me whether your sister is safe from the Chara's anger? I have dared not ask the Chara himself." 

Andrew propped his hand against the cell door and said, in the same quiet voice as before, "He will not enter charges against her, if that is what you wish to know. But the full answer to your question is that he has kept her prisoner in his quarters since her return, and he will not allow even me to visit her. He told me that he has not hurt her, but I fear that he may not forgive her for what has happened. The Chara—" He paused, and then said, "Peter has become like a stranger to me. I would not say this to anyone but you. I do not know what I can do to reach him. Only the god can speak to him now." 

"Since you mention your god . . ." I placed my hand to Andrew's god-mask badge, which I was still wearing on my chest. "This is the time to return this to you." 

"Please keep it," he replied. "You need it far more than I do, and it may be that the god will be able to help you where I have failed." 

I said nothing, since my opinion of the Koretian religion was not one that I would want to give Andrew at such a moment. He sighed finally and said, "I must go. I am meeting with Lord James in one last attempt to see whether we can find a lawful reason to stop the trial. But we have not had any success thus far, and James is unwilling to go beyond the rights given to him by the division of powers." He gave the door a sharp knock, and I heard the guard stepping forward to let him out. 

"If he has respect for that division, it is because the Chara and I taught it to him," I replied. "This episode seems filled with irony on all sides." 

"I wish," said Andrew, "that the god did not have such a keen sense of humor." The guard came closer to the door, and Andrew said, without looking my way, "May the god watch over you tomorrow, Carle." 

"Farewell, Lord Andrew," I said in a voice too low to be heard by the guard. "However reluctant you and Lord James have been to ally yourself with me, I have received comfort in knowing that I have not been alone in my struggles." 

I had not been alone during my imprisonment, but now I knew that no one would share my final steps on the path I had unwittingly elected to take so many years before. I was unable to sleep that night; it was very dark and very cold, and the dungeon was silent as a tomb. I could not help but wonder whether Adrian had felt like this on the night when he left our campfire and began the journey to his death.


	19. Sentences | 3

**CHAPTER THREE**   
**987 a.g.l.**   


> _The most skilled Emorian judges, such as the Chara, take into account a man's character when deciding a judgment and sentence, but the law provides limits to how far the judge may stray from considering the immediate crime. In order to correct perceived inadequacies in Emorian law, Koretia has developed a parallel system of judgment called the gods' law, which is based on their religious rites. In these "courts," the prisoner is placed under judgment by a priest, with the highest judgment reserved for Koretia's High Priest, the Jackal. The priest – or, as the Koretians like to put it, the god – decides the prisoner's guilt based on his conduct throughout his entire life, rather than simply his conduct in the case at hand. The unfortunate consequence of this is that it is possible for two men to be tried for the same crime, one under the Chara's law and one under the gods' law, and for the men to receive very different sentences._

  
o—o—o

The entrance to the Chara's dungeon is located on the north side of the corridor that enwraps the Court of Judgment; therefore, I could not blame Peter for the route I undertook on the day of my trial. I knew, though, that I had Peter to thank for the timing of my march. Over the years, Peter had always held his private trials late in the evening, so that the prisoners would be escorted to his presence when the corridors were largely empty. In my case, he chose to hold the trial at noonday, when all the palace officials were swarming in the corridors. 

The first ones I sighted were the council officials, who were streaming down the corridor leading from the Council Chamber in a manner that I was used to seeing only when the quarters were cleared for a closed council meeting. This time, though, I could be sure that their presence was for my sake, for a number of lords were in the crowd, gawking at me as I passed. I caught barely a glimpse of them before the guard beside me cut off my view. I was flanked by two guards, each holding a sword and each grasping me by my arms, which were bound behind me. 

Even after my view of the crowd was gone, I could hear the muttered remarks near me, some caustic, some merely full of condescending pity. I wondered whether James was supplying his own commentary on my journey, or whether, in continued mercy, he had stayed away. 

After undergoing the council's scrutiny, I found the rest of the trip relatively easy. We passed by the main palace entrance, and out of the corner of my eye I saw that the execution yard had been swept clear of snow. The nearby gate in the palace wall, which normally shuttered condemned prisoners from the prying eye of city folk, was in the midst of being pulled back. The law declares that council lords are among the select few whose executions must take place in public. 

Then we turned into the corridor leading to the Map Room. The court officials there had poured out of their quarters and were silently lining the walls. One of the few who still appeared to be going about his business was Brian, who dipped his eyes as he passed me. I scarcely noticed him; I was staring at the door to the Chara's quarters. Despite the fact that the Chara was awaiting me in the Map Room, the guards' spears were crossed, and I remembered what Andrew had told me about Ursula. 

We passed the entrance to the slave-quarters, clogged with slaves who were not inhibited by the courtesy taught to free-men and who therefore did not bother to lower their voices as they discussed my judgment. Foremost in the crowd were my own slave-servants, who had been transferred into the Chara's immediate care at the time of my arrest. It appeared from their comments that they could conceive of no more splendid event in their lives than that I should meet my just death. 

Then we were nearing the Map Room doors, and I was just rendering inward thanks for an end to the journey when I caught sight of Curtis. He was standing at the entrance to my quarters, and as I passed him our eyes linked. Then, quite deliberately, he turned away from me. 

All that remained for me after that was to face the Chara. I say that as a tortured prisoner might say that, having undergone the scourge and the brand, all that remained for him was the rack. 

I suppose I hoped that, after a month spent listening to Peter's mockery, I would be inured to his presence. But there is a difference between bearing the personal judgment of one's friend and enduring the face of the Chara in judgment. This time the look of the law embodied was not there because he was issuing me with a command or giving me an unofficial reprimand. Now I was brought before him as a prisoner on trial, a man who must meet the wrathful vengeance of the Chara. For a moment after I saw the Chara's face, I wondered whether he would end up holding his judgment over my unconscious body. 

I barely heard him in the minutes after the door closed and the Chara recited the formal words announcing the crime with which I was charged; I was thinking ahead to the moment when he would ask me whether I denied the charge. There were three manners in which I could deny it: I could plead innocent, I could claim provocation, or I could say that I had undertaken the crime without clear understanding of what I was doing. 

Silence filled the room; the Chara was awaiting my plea. He stared at me with the look which has been worn by the Charas for a thousand years and which made Peter more than a man – which made him the law itself, a balance of judgment holding mercy and vengeance. I realized that the pause had stretched itself out, realized too that I had made several attempts to speak and had failed. Finally I forced myself to say, "I admit to my guilt, but claim that I had no clear understanding of my deed." 

There was no change in Peter's expression as he heard me enter the plea that, if accepted, would result in my enslavement. The Chara facing his enemy in an official meeting does not reveal his inner thoughts through the expression in his face, nor does the Chara in judgment move except in the formal patterns custom demands. Now I saw one of those formal patterns as the Chara's hand slowly moved toward his pendant. The small part of me that was still calmly watching this rose up in alarm. Was the Chara so far gone astray from his duty that he would not even hear witness before pronouncing judgment? Then the hand moved swiftly to pull off the pendant, and a moment later the Chara was gone. All that remained was Peter, looking at me with a carefully guarded face that was nevertheless his own. 

He placed the pendant on the table beside him and said, his voice picked clean of all mockery, "Andrew and I had a long talk last night, and since this is one of the first times he has given me advice where I did not ask for it, I felt obliged to follow at least some of the counsel he offered. Among other things, he pointed out that you were likely to find it difficult to give witness if I judged you while wearing the face of the Chara. I have therefore decided to judge you in this manner, so that you may have a fair trial." 

Since he appeared to be expecting comment, I said, "I did not know that you could do that, Peter." 

"It is difficult," said Peter, his fingers resting on the pendant, "but I can do it. The look of the Chara is still there, but it is under the surface." His hand moved away from the pendant as he added, "This was the manner in which I judged Andrew at his trial. I would not want to show more favor toward him than toward you." 

There was a peculiar sparseness about his words, as though he had gleaned all the chaff from his thoughts overnight. Still staring at me without anger or harshness, he said, "My witness is this: Amidst my recent difficulties, both official and personal, I entrusted to you the company of my wife, as the two of you were the only people remaining in my life whom I believed I could trust completely. One month ago, I discovered that you had helped my wife break her marriage vow to me, and you did so on the day after you learned I had been betrayed a second time by Andrew. . . . You may now give your witness." 

Peter's initial defeats in Arpesh had come because his chief subcommander had planned his campaign in one manner and then discovered that the rebel forces wished to fight in another manner. I found myself in much the same situation now. I had planned to fight the irrational, ill-balanced man who had been visiting my dungeon cell for the past month. But this witness was, if anything, too balanced. It was what the law researchers call "skeleton witness" – witness that is so pared down, so slender, so confined to the immediate facts, that it cannot be easily refuted. There is only one way to fight such a witness, as is known by everyone who has worked in the law: to offer an "attack witness," assaulting the credibility and character of the man who has just given evidence. By destroying the character of the man giving witness, you avoid the necessity of countering a witness that has no meat on the bones to grasp hold of. 

Peter was standing in the center of the room, far from the windows whose shutters were opened in order to provide noonday light. A breeze made its way across the snow-frosted windowsills and stirred Peter's thick formal cloak. I saw him shiver, but he did not take his gaze off of me. His face was pale except for the black circles under his eyes. 

I said, "My witness is inadequate, Peter." 

Peter's winter-grey eyes narrowed as I spoke. This was not a statement he often heard from witnesses in his court. It was developed as a method to allow witnesses a way to avoid giving evidence which was especially painful for them to recount and which they believed would neither fully support nor fully oppose the prisoner's plea. It was a statement given most often by close friends of the prisoner who wished to avoid giving witness that would cause pain to the prisoner, but occasionally it was used also by friends of the person who gave witness against the prisoner. As far as I knew, it had never been used by the prisoner himself. 

"Well," said Peter slowly, "my witness is also inadequate to support your plea. I hope that you understand that." 

"Yes, Peter." 

Peter's hand reached out toward the pendant, and then hovered in the air. Peter continued to look at me with his impartial expression. He said quietly, "I have no choice in which judgment to give, Carle. Are you sure that you do not wish to add to your testimony?" 

It could not have been Peter's voice, but rather a memory whispering in my ear, that spoke the law words I had once repeated to my first student, Adrian: "The Chara's judgment cannot be reversed." I could feel the blood throbbing against my wrists where the rope was pulled tight. I had been stripped of all bodily adornments that morning, including my jewelled sword-belt and silver honor brooch, but not including Andrew's inconspicuous badge. The first adornment to be roughly torn from me had been my cloak clasp. Whatever winter breeze had made its way toward Peter seemed to have reached me as well, and I attributed my cloakless state to the cause of my shivering. 

I said, "I thank you, but I have nothing to add, Peter." 

Through Peter's silence I could hear the voice of the Map Room guards, confirming to some visitor that the Chara could not be disturbed on penalty of the high doom. Finally Peter dropped his hand to his side and said, in a voice drained of any evidence of emotion, "I will not make this harder for you by wearing the pendant. Carle son of Verne, former High Lord of the Great Council, you have been charged with—" He stopped, and his expression grew dark. 

I turned to see what he was looking at. One of the Map Room guards had slipped into the room and was looking at Peter with a mixture of misery and fear. He said, "I offer to you my immeasurable apologies, Chara, but the Koretian Ambassador wishes to speak to you. He says that he bears a message from the High Lord which cannot wait until you are finished with this case." 

Peter's right hand was curled around his sword hilt. He said, his voice low and even, "Please remind the Ambassador that I may not be disturbed while sitting in judgment." 

The guard swallowed. "Chara, he seems to feel that it is quite important to speak with you." 

Peter said coldly, "Tell the Ambassador that I will speak with him in a short while, after I have finished giving judgment – and please ensure that I am not disturbed again." 

The guard held his dagger against his face in a salute; he had laid his spear to one side when he entered the room, so careless a move that I felt the impulse to scold him before I remembered my present circumstances. Backing up, he closed the great silver doors. 

The reverberation of their closure was still rolling through the room when Peter continued, "You have been charged with attacking the manhood of the Chara, and you have accepted the charge, but deny that it was done with clear understanding. The Chara's judgment is— What in the name of . . . ?" 

His voice trailed off as he and I both looked toward the door, beyond which was occurring a great deal of shouting. Amongst the voices shouting, I could not hear Andrew's clipped tones; and indeed, when the doors opened once more a moment later, Andrew was standing silently and rigidly, his gaze focussed, not on the Chara, but on the guard behind him, who had his dagger unsheathed and was staring at Andrew with horrified incredulity. 

Peter had drawn his blade as well; it was the first time I had ever seen the Sword of Vengeance out of its sheath. I remembered then that, at his father's behest, I had taught Peter the rudiments of bladeplay. This, no doubt, was the sort of circumstance that his father had wished him trained to arm himself against. 

Peter took a step forward, and Andrew, standing sideways in the short gap between the doors, flicked a glance his way. Andrew's dagger was naked, and it was laid against the throat of the guard whom he had pinned against his chest. 

Andrew had always possessed a gift for understatement. Now he said calmly, though somewhat breathlessly, "I would have word with you, Chara." 

"Ambassador, you are endangering your mission by coming to my presence in such a manner." Peter raised his voice to be heard above the shouts in the corridor. 

Andrew kept his gaze on the corridor, where I could glimpse a large group of palace guards gathering, naked blades in hand. "Say, rather, that I am fulfilling it. Will you grant me audience?" 

Peter was looking at the guards also. I knew that the soldiers were only awaiting the Chara's word before they attacked Andrew; if the Ambassador had been any other man, they would have attacked before this. Peter's gaze travelled from the guards to Andrew, standing with practiced coolness in his murderous pose. Then Peter slammed his sword back into his sheath and said, "Put up your weapon, and I will listen to you." 

Without a word, Andrew released his prisoner and turned toward the Chara, sheathing his dagger in the same movement. Several of the guards stepped forward to catch hold of Andrew, but Peter said, "Return to your posts and close the doors." After a moment's hesitation in which the two dozen guards looked uneasily at Andrew, standing motionless with his dagger hand empty, the Map Room guards slammed the doors shut. 

With as much composure as though he had entered the room through regular means, Andrew said, "Chara, the High Lord apologizes for my intrusion and asks that I deliver to you the following message: Lord James wishes to remind the Chara that it is the council's right to offer a recommendation for the judgment and sentencing of any prisoner whom it transfers to the care of the Chara. Although this right has not been exercised for many years, it remains in the division of powers, and therefore the High Lord wishes to meet with you and the prisoner in order to offer his recommendation. He points out further that, although you have not sought his advice in this matter, the law-structure requires him to give it in important cases such as this." 

"Lord James is not the best man to lecture me on the law, since he is using a foreign ambassador to deliver his message." As he spoke, Peter drummed his fingers on the sword hilt he had not released since Andrew's entrance. "Nevertheless, I would not want him to feel that he has neglected his duties, so I will meet with him as he wishes. As for your duties, Ambassador—" 

He stopped; Andrew had unsheathed his dagger once more. Andrew did not look Peter's way, however. Instead, he walked over till he was standing behind my back. His cold dagger slid between my wrists, cutting the rope, and in the same moment I heard him murmur: "Remember your promise." 

He stepped away from me. Peter was watching him with a grim expression, but had made no move to stop him. Andrew said to Peter, "You released me from my bonds during my trial." 

Peter greeted this explanation with silence, and then continued slowly, "As for your duties, Ambassador, you have broken your land's peace oath today. I hope that you consider this case worth the consequences of that." 

"Even the smallest crime has large consequences," replied Andrew. "I remember hearing Carle tell you that when we were boys. This is true of crimes other than my own." 

"I am quite aware of the large consequences of Carle's crime—" 

"You misunderstand me, Chara." Andrew cut him off. "It is not Carle's law-breaking which concerns me, but your own. I am here to try to prevent you from murdering the law." 

o—o—o

One of the exercises I had forced Peter to undertake during his student days was the task of separating the legendary stories of early Emor from the true history. I say "forced" because Peter had a romantic mind and was loath to admit that any of the heroic tales surrounding the early Charas could be fabricated. Nevertheless, I pointed out to him that certain stories were repeated over and over with varying details, so it was unlikely that such events had ever actually occurred. 

There is, for example, the common motif of the innocent man being rescued from the Chara's judgment. In this story, an innocent man is about to be condemned to the high doom, solely because an enemy has given false witness against him. ("Impossible," I told Peter, "for unless the Chara or a council lord enters charges, the law requires more than one witness when a prisoner is charged with one of the Great Three.") At the last minute, a friend rushes into the court to provide true evidence, having killed a score or more palace guards in his efforts to reach the court. ("It would never happen that way," I said, "for the Chara welcomes all additional evidence, and in any case, a man who tried to enter the court by violent means would be swiftly killed by the palace guards.") After freeing the innocent prisoner, the Chara takes the man and his friend on a triumphal march through the palace. ("Fanciful fiddle-faddle," I concluded severely, in an attempt to destroy Peter's lingering dreams.) 

It was no triumphal march which Peter led Andrew and me on that day, but for the palace dwellers who had seen the former High Lord brought to judgment, and then seen the Koretian Ambassador interrupt the trial by holding a palace guard hostage, it must have been hard to keep their imaginations from running wild. I heard some of what they said, for Peter, determined even at this moment to follow protocol, stopped at his quarters on the way in order to change out of his formal tunic, since custom demanded that he answer the High Lord's summons in the same clothes as would any other Emorian. The dungeon guards who were accompanying us on our journey were matched in their nervousness only by the Chara's personal guards, who watched Andrew as he rested his hand on his dagger hilt, and who were no doubt wondering whether they would be called upon at any moment to defend the Chara's life. 

Having lost all interest in maintaining dignity, I kept my gaze squarely fixed to the floor, both during our wait and during our subsequent walk to the council quarters. As I reached the doors, though, I raised my eyes in time to see that the council guards' spears were crossed before the door, a sight that had never occurred during my time in the palace except when the council was in closed session. This was not the case now, however. The lords whom I had seen before were still thronging the corridors, and it appeared from their hushed comments that were mystified as to why they had been shut out of their chamber. 

The sheer force of the Chara's angry expression caused everyone in the corridor to flatten themselves against the wall. This gave the council guards the opportunity to open the great doors a crack without allowing those in the corridor to see into the chamber. A "crack," for doors that size, meant a large enough opening for the three of us. We were several spear-lengths into the room, with the doors closing in a booming echo, before I saw what was being hidden from the rest of the palace. 

The ingenious architect who had designed the three great chambers of the palace had used different methods of lighting to add variety to what would otherwise have been three large rooms that looked exactly alike. The Map Room was designed with ordinary wall-windows that looked out in one direction toward the black border mountains and in the opposite direction toward a northern view of the landscape of Southern Emor; on a clear day, my village could be seen from that room. The roof over the Court of Judgment was composed of alabaster, which allowed in dim light on all but the darkest days. By contrast, the Council Chamber, which was surrounded on all sides by the other rooms of the council quarters, did not have windows in its walls, nor was it given the dark atmosphere of the court. Instead, the architect had constructed a series of clerestory windows, cleverly slanted so that their light fell entirely on the council table. By some trick that modern-day architects were still trying to emulate, the greatest amount of light fell from the south onto the High Lord's chair – with the irritating result that, at noonday, the light glared straight into the eyes of the High Lord. This was why, like most High Lords, I had always scheduled council meetings for the afternoon. 

The light was falling directly onto the High Lord now, but it was not in his eyes, for he was sitting at the table, bent over a volume so slim that I knew it must be the first of the law books: the volume containing the law-structure and the division of powers. A sheet of paper lay atop the volume, and leaning over James's shoulder to look at the sheet was another man. He was about Peter's age, dark-haired and with a neatly trimmed beard, and the hand that reached out to point at the sheet was the color of blackroot bark. I could not see his eyes from where I stood, but I could see another set of eyes on the table before him: they were slanted and golden, and they belonged to the mask he was lightly touching with his dagger hand. 

"Jackal?" Not since his boyhood had I heard Peter speak in so tentative a fashion. "I was not aware that you were in my land." 

A faint smile flickered over the face of the Koretian ruler as he looked up. "I believe that you will be receiving word of my arrival in a short time, Chara. I passed one of your spies on the way here." 

There was a pause. Again, this was something I had not witnessed of Peter since his early days as Chara, when he had to feel his way carefully through any confrontation. He said finally, "If you have come in response to Carle's arrest, you made good time, especially with the border mountains snowbound." 

"Andrew's message was urgent," replied the Jackal, "and I move quickly when I am on the hunt." 

He spoke in a matter-of-fact manner, in a voice so soft that I could barely hear it from where I stood. Unlike Andrew's threats over the past few months, which had been phrased in much the same manner, there was no tone of menace to the Jackal's voice, yet I felt a stinging upon my spine. Just as on the last occasion we had met, I sensed that the most terrifying aspect of the Jackal was his nonchalant belief in his powers. 

In obedience to my promise to Andrew, I was standing silently several paces behind Peter, where he could not see me. Peter had stopped in front of the council guest's chair; I was the only one who witnessed his hidden right hand curl into a fist. But I saw Andrew watching him closely, as though he knew from past experience what the Chara was undergoing. 

The Ambassador was standing midway down the table, his body pivoted halfway toward Peter and halfway toward James and the Jackal. It took me a moment to remember where I had seen this stance before. Dimly out of the hollows of my memory, the image returned to me: Andrew, only just come of age, standing between two free-servants who had been quarrelling. For several minutes, he had gone from one servant to the other, conveying messages that the two men were unwilling to communicate to each other. Gradually, he had brought the servants to the point where they were willing to speak directly to each other. From that point on, he had said little except to urge the servants to allow each other to speak; he had interjected his comments only when one of the parties began to lose control of himself. 

Peter and I had been unnoticed witnesses to this scene, and afterwards Peter had joked about Andrew being an ambassador – at least, I had thought it was a joke. But now I realized that Andrew must have taken on this mediating role many times: twenty years ago, between servant and servant; ten years ago, between the Chara and the Jackal; and one month ago (it suddenly became clear), between the Chara and his law-breaking High Lord. 

His voice suddenly rough with anger, Peter said, "You need not have come all this way, Jackal. This is an Emorian court case, and you may not interfere." He turned abruptly away. 

He had not yet reached the point where he could see me standing behind him when he halted, caught by Andrew's quiet voice saying, "Chara." That was all, but Peter turned slowly back, and after a moment said, in a pale, neutral voice, "Tell me what you have to say, Jackal." 

The Jackal was watching Andrew, almost as though awaiting permission to speak. When he had received whatever silent message he sought, he said to Peter, "I have not come concerning Carle, though your High Lord has been asking my advice on that matter. My direct mission has been to determine why you are holding my ward prisoner without a trial." 

Peter's fist tightened further. "Lady Ursula is not a prisoner," he said brusquely. 

"You have not allowed her to leave your quarters. You have not allowed her to see anyone, even her own brother." 

"Lady Ursula—" Peter's voice began to grow louder; he quickly adjusted its level. "Lady Ursula and I have certain matters that we need to discuss. These are problems that must be worked out privately between husband and wife." 

"I realize that you have private troubles in your marriage, Chara," said the Jackal, his voice still soft. "That is why I have not interfered before this, though Brendon has shown me some letters he received from Ursula in past years that worried him. It has reached a point, though, where I must speak. You may recall that Ursula's marriage to you was a term in the peace settlement." 

I could not see Peter's face from where he stood, but I could read its grimness in his voice. "That peace settlement was broken several months ago, and not by me, Jackal. You have delivered enough threats through your Ambassador. There is no need for you to add more." 

"Peter . . ." The Jackal's pause gave me time to realize that I had never known that the two rulers had reached the stage of addressing each other informally. The black-eyed gaze of the Jackal rested lightly upon the Chara's face as he said, "Peter, by the time I arrive home, official word of what has happened will have reached my palace, and I expect to be greeted by three pieces of news at that point: my council will have voted to break relations with your council; my subcommander, who has never approved of this marital alliance, will be urging me to declare war; and my people, who know Ursula and know that she would not have acted as she did without provocation, will also be eager for war. There is a limit to how long I can hold my people's passions in check, Peter. I have come here for the same reason you came to Koretia ten years ago: in hopes of averting war." 

Peter's fist slowly unfurled like an Arpeshian peace flag. He was silent a moment; it was like the division that takes place between subsections of a law. At last he said, "Then I thank you for coming, John. Before we proceed further, however, I need to know what advice it is that Lord James has been seeking from you." 

James had been silent all this while, though he had risen upon Peter's entrance – a courtesy only, for the law declared that the Chara could not even speak in this chamber without the High Lord's permission. Now he met Peter's eyes with such steadiness that I felt my stomach sicken. This was a look James gave only in circumstances where a weaker man would be cowering with fear. 

He said, "I have been asking the Jackal's advice on whether he believed that the council should declare you ill-balanced in your judgment of this case." 

I was grateful at that moment that I could not see the Chara's face. "Lord James," he said darkly, "before you speak further, I wish to know whether you realize that you have disobeyed my command." 

"Yes, Chara, I realize that." I thought that I could hear the strain in James's voice, but his gaze remained even with the Chara's. "I did not believe that I had any choice. My duty requires me to help the Chara maintain his balance." 

"Your duty, Lord James, is to act as my advisor on court matters, nothing more. You have certain rights over me, but this is not one of them. Unlike the Jackal, I have no plans to abdicate my power of judgment to the council by proclamation. Therefore the law does not allow you to overrule me in this case. Young as you are, I would have thought that you understood that." 

James bowed his head. At first, I thought that he was upset by the reference to his age; then I realized that he was staring once more at the sheet of paper before him. Both Andrew and the Jackal were now watching James rather than Peter. James reached forward with his fingers, touched the law book before him, and stayed in that pose for a while, rather like the Koretians, who pray by touching a god-mask. Finally he looked up and said, "I was not consulting the Jackal about his decision to allow the Koretian council to overrule him in single cases. I was asking his advice on whether to make use of a certain document that has come to my notice." His fingers remained where they were, touching the volume containing the law-structure. 

Peter's voice, hoarse, tremulous, broke through the silence: "How did you know—?" His voice slammed to a stop; then he turned suddenly. 

Again he was halted before he caught sight of me. "I did it," said Andrew quietly. "I made a copy of the document and gave it to James." 

"You, Ambassador?" Peter's right hand was in a fist once more, and this time it was trembling. "But you could not know of such a document – unless someone told you." 

"You gave me the royal badge." 

The Jackal's left hand was now resting upon his dagger, which was curved like a beast's claw in the style of a priest's blade. In Koretia, all royal executions are rendered by the ruler himself, and this dagger had no doubt sliced through the heart of many a traitor. I remembered then that the Chara was not the only man who had been victim to Andrew's treachery. 

In his usual dispassionate tone, Andrew was saying, "James and I had a number of interesting discussions a few months ago about the difference between the law-structure and the division of powers. I had not realized until then that the division of powers, as we know it today, came into existence later than the giving of the law. I knew that Brian had in his possession some early document that preceded and modified the division of powers; I knew this, not because of anything he said, but because of the questions he refused to answer. So I waited until you and Brian were busy in the court, and then I used the badge to get beyond the guards at the entrance to the passage leading to the documents room." 

"You did not have the key to the room." Peter's voice had taken on a tone of weary acidity. "I knew enough, at least, not to hand you that." 

"I picked the lock," said Andrew coolly. "It took me a while to find what I was looking for, and then I had to scribe a copy, so that by the time I left the room, Brian had returned from the court. I met him as I was coming out of the door." 

"Brian too." Peter's sharpness was gone from his tone; he only sounded tired now. 

"He and I made a bargain," Andrew continued. "If he did not tell you that I had seen the document, I would not show it to anyone. I swore him my free-man's oath." 

"He ought to have known better than to make such a bargain with you." I could hear a tinge of relief in Peter's voice that his clerk had not been party to Andrew's treachery. "You are not the type who keeps oaths." 

"I kept this one," Andrew replied. "Brian released me from my oath last night. He said that you had told him that you would not destroy the document because there might come a time when the Chara became so ill-balanced that the Chara To Be wished to bring the missing portion of the law-structure to the council's notice. Since you have no heir, Brian believed that I was the only one who could decide whether to do this. I showed James the document this morning, and he in turn was unwilling to decide the matter on his own. We were just trying to figure out who to consult when the Jackal arrived." 

"I advised Lord James not to invoke the powers in this document," interjected the Jackal, "but I do not think that your High Lord has made up his mind on the matter." 

James was biting his lip so hard that I could see a thin trickle of blood on it. "It's a matter of balancing two evils, you see," he said hesitantly. "I don't want to use the document or even to allow the council to know it exists. Aside from what it would mean for you, I think that it would end up destroying the balance of powers between the Chara and his council. But I think that Emor would be destroyed even more quickly if you were to misuse your powers as Chara." 

"Carle has received a fair trial." Peter's voice was now colorless. "He will tell you that himself. Despite the fact that this is a matter of private vengeance, I have not allowed my feelings to influence how I handled this case." 

"Haven't you?" James's eyes, which were already squinting in the sun, now narrowed into a glare. "Are you telling me, Chara, that whenever a prisoner is placed under your care, you visit him almost daily in prison and taunt him with descriptions of his upcoming judgment and execution?" 

Through the stillness of the room, the seventh cry of the Chara's trumpeters rang clear. There would be no council meeting here this afternoon; the council's High Lord was presently engaged in a deadly duel. 

Peter took a step backwards. He said, his voice still pale, "I am aware that I have strayed from my duty in that regard. That is why I took great care in the trial to attend only to the facts at hand and not allow my feelings to be swayed by desires for either vengeance or mercy. Carle has claimed not to have had a clear understanding of his crime. There is not enough support from either of our witnesses to allow such a judgment." 

James had until this time been motionless, but now his fist attacked the table, setting the ancient wood vibrating in response. "Carle has chosen the wrong moment in his life to show humility. All of us who have seen the two of you together for the past few months know that he ought to have claimed provocation. You may ask for my witness on the matter, or Lord Andrew's – particularly Lord Andrew's, since he saw you suspend your High Lord from his office for the offense of quarrelling with a man who had just betrayed you. Incidentally, such a seal of shame has not been branded on any High Lord since the time of the Chara Duncan." 

It appeared that James had been taking my advice to consult the Case volumes. He leaned forward, resting the palms of his hands on the table, and said passionately, "Chara, for four months I have listened to you interpret the law in the narrowest fashion possible, as though it were a tool to your power, used to enslave all those around you, rather than a way to allow your loyal subjects their freedom. I nearly despaired of the law during my first few weeks in the palace. I thought that I had misunderstood the law's purpose, that it was nothing more than a clever device to gain power, rather than a way to care for the Emorians. But during the past month I have come to realize that Lord Carle does not see the law in the way that you do. His only desire is to serve the Chara and his law, and he is willing to serve you with his death if that is necessary. That is what gave me the courage to break your command, Chara, and that is what will give me the courage to use this document if you force me to. I will not be attacking the Chara when I do so, for if you interpret the facts of this case narrowly, without taking into account what sort of man Carle is and how you have harmed him, you will already have forsworn your oath as Chara." 

Peter flicked his fist open for a brief moment; I could see the red scores where his fingernails had bitten into his palm. "The Jackal advised you not to use the document," he said, his voice still neutral. 

The Jackal said softly, "I advised him not to use it because I did not believe that your conduct in this case was a matter that men could judge. I thought it better to leave such a judgment to the god." 

James looked over toward the Koretian ruler, and I saw him edge his hand away from the mask on the table. Peter, his voice once more shaking, said, "And have you brought me a message from the god?" 

The Jackal's gaze flicked over to me for the first time, and then quickly back toward Peter. "The god speaks through me in a language that would not be understood by all in this chamber, I think. In any case, you are the voice of the god in this land, not I. All that I can do is offer you my advice as someone who has once before faced the dilemma of whether to show too much or too little favor toward a friend. Last time I made the wrong decision, and though the god showed me mercy, I would not wish to test him in this regard again. Next time I might meet the fate of a man whom I once heard sung about in a Daxion song." 

My breath travelled swiftly in; remembering a passing remark that Ursula had made one month before, I realized which song the Jackal must be referring to. I nearly spoke, but Andrew was watching me, and so I remained motionless and silent. 

"A Daxion song?" Peter sounded puzzled. With all his worries about Koretia, he had never had time to learn much about Daxis's religion and the land's music, half secular, half sacred. 

"It was a song about a god-man," said the Jackal, "a certain ruler who lived long ago and who defied the command of the god by misusing his powers: he showed unwarranted favor toward one friend and unjustly condemned another to death. After he had done this, he discovered that he had lost his godly powers." 

Peter turned then. Not quickly, not toward me; he was simply turning from the words. For the first time I saw his eyes: they were almost as dark now as the Jackal's. He stared vacantly, blinded to everything around him by the fear that had returned. In the darkness beyond the council table, no part of him caught light, for he had stripped himself of his royal emblem brooch. 

I took a step forward, and Andrew, beyond Peter's view, shook his head. I knew why he had done so; I knew that Peter was pivoting on the point of a decision, and that any memory of me could push Peter to the wrong side of judgment. But this was not what I had envisioned when I had promised my help to Andrew: not this slow destruction of Peter's will as an alternative to keeping him from destroying himself and Emor. I took another step forward and said, "Chara." 

Peter looked my way, and the darkness of his eyes was suddenly matched by the darkness of his expression. I said quickly and firmly, lest my courage fail me, "I call you Chara because I seem to be the only man left in this chamber who remembers who you are. I am thankful to the others here for supporting me in this way, but I am unwilling to allow my life's blood to be saved if its price must be that you forget your office. You are the Chara; you have been given the power of absolute judgment over your subjects. You may seek the advice, but you are not under the command, of the council or of foreign rulers. As the Jackal himself admitted just now, you are the only voice in this land who may speak with full authority. It is for you to decide whether you have properly served the law and have been balanced in your judgment. If you believe that you have, then you must not allow anything or anyone to stand in the way of your decision to place me under the high doom." 

James was gaping at me as though I had suddenly joined Peter in his madness. I could not read the Jackal's look, but I had noticed Andrew's eyes flicker when I spoke the words "served the law." He, at least, understood the reminder I was offering Peter. The only question left was whether the Chara would heed the careful wording of my reminder. If not, I had just handed Peter the blade with which he could murder the law. 

Peter's expression had been growing steadily more angry. It was like watching life return to a corpse. He said sharply, "Thank you for that reminder, Carle. I am indeed the one who decides, under the law, whether you or anyone else in this land lives or dies, and I am glad that you have enough loyalty remaining that you recognize that fact. —Lord James, you have disobeyed my command." Peter turned from me to face the head of the table. James turned white. I suppose that there is a limit to one's courage when one is fifteen years old and facing the possibility of death. 

"I issued that command because I feared that you were trying to gain power for the council," said Peter with firmness. "However, your reluctance to employ a very useful document to obtain such power reassures me as to your loyalty to the law. I am willing to release you from my command on condition that you never use that document—" There was the briefest of pauses before Peter added, "Except on the advice of the Chara To Be. And I will ensure that in the future there will be no need for the Chara To Be to question my balance. Do you accept this condition?" 

"Willingly, Chara." James's voice was subdued. "But you have no Chara To Be." 

"Not yet." Peter's gaze travelled over to the Jackal. "Jackal, I am sorry for all that has passed between Lady Ursula and myself, but this episode has cleared my eyes so that I can see that I have neglected my duty to beget an heir. It is possible that Lady Ursula may still have children, but after ten years, I cannot risk waiting any longer. The peace settlement allows me to divorce the Consort if she fails to produce an heir; that was a clause inserted by Lord Dean, and you accepted it. I ask that you take your ward back with you when you to return to Koretia." 

"I think that you should reconsider this decision, Chara." There was no mistaking now the menace in the Jackal's voice. "The people of my land will believe that you are using Ursula's childlessness as an excuse to put her away, and they may be right about that." 

"You have my decision," said Peter tersely. "I do not want to add to our present quarrels; nor do I want war between us. But I will release you from your peace oath if you wish to withdraw it." 

The Jackal looked over at Andrew, still standing silently between the two parties. "I will leave the decision to my ambassador," he said. "Andrew knows better than I do whether any good may be gained from further talks." 

I expected Peter to turn next to Andrew; thus my capture was immediate when Peter turned toward me. I saw then what his voice had not revealed, that he was wearing the look of the Chara in judgment. He came over to stand by me and said, "As Lord James is fond of pointing out to me, it is my duty to give serious consideration to the advice of my council. In this particular case, the council has made its opinion so clear that I feel bound by my adherence to the law-structure to follow its recommendation. Therefore, Carle, I find you guilty, but with provocation, and so I sentence you to mercy. Nonetheless—" He spoke swiftly, as if I had been about to interrupt him, though I remained frozen where I was. "As the Chara, I have judged you by my own standards, but I am not obliged to do so in my private life. It is _your_ standards that will determine the rest of what I have to say. Let me be clear. You are to leave my palace and go wherever you wish, whether it be to your home or to Koretia or to any other place. But while I live, you are never to enter this palace again. Do you understand?" 

Peter was standing with his back to the council table. At the far end of the chamber, beyond James and the Jackal, I could see the open doorway to the council library; I could just glimpse the white leather bindings of the books I had first seen forty-three years before. On that same day of my youth, Adrian had willingly exiled himself from Emor and its laws, returning to end his life in his native land. 

I said, "I understand, Chara. I will do as you wish." 

"Good." Peter turned swiftly away from me, as though dismissing me as unworthy of notice. "Lord Andrew—" he said, then stopped. 

Andrew was standing in his usual rigid pose, and his face bore no more expression than usual. He had been looking at me, but now his gaze travelled with arrogant slowness toward the Chara. At least, that was how I would have interpreted the scene any time during the past twenty-two years. But now I sensed that I was missing something – that Peter, his face softening back into its usual form, was seeing something which was hidden from my view. 

"Andrew." Peter's voice was barely more than a whisper. "You are my friend, the only friend I ever had. Will you stay with me?" 

Andrew's voice was equally low when he replied. "I'll stay as long as you need me," he said. "That's why I came back to Emor." 

Peter turned then, his gaze passing through me as though I no longer stood there. He went to the doors and pulled them open, wide enough for two men to walk through. Andrew followed, and as he passed me, he looked my way, but I did not see whether the look he gave me was of pity or triumph. Everything around me had turned dark; only two thoughts remained in my mind. 

One was that Andrew had also been judged by his own standards. The other was that, during all the years that I had told Peter there was no conflict between friendship and the law, it had never occurred to me that the word friendship does not appear anywhere in the law books.


	20. Sentences | 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**   
**987 a.g.l.**   


> _People who live in lands without a long tradition of the law often express confusion about the difference between a judgment of innocence and a judgment of guilt accompanied by a sentence of mercy. Emorians know, however, that the lightest of the three sentences carries its own punishment, for the knowledge that he has been found guilty of a crime is a harsh sentence for any law-loving prisoner._

  
o—o—o

Twenty years before the Koretian Ambassador arrived in Emor, I had walked through the Court of Judgment, watched by three hundred silent free-men. For the past eight years, I had walked almost daily into the Council Chamber and accepted the silent appraisal of my fellow lords. But to any lord who wishes practice in learning courage under scrutiny, I can only recommend the experience of riding into one's village when everyone there knows that you have recently been arrested for adultery with the Chara's wife. 

I arrived in the late afternoon, having resisted the temptation to wait in the countryside until after dark. Therefore, I provided a pleasant distraction to the villagers who were bustling about their business in the street. As the sound of my horse's hoofbeat reached them, they looked up – it was late in the winter for peddlers – and then a silence covered the village so deep that it was as though the snow on the mountainside had suddenly buried the houses. 

The only movement was of the children running inside to alert their elders. I rode for a while with my head held high, sitting several handspans above the people around me. Then I remembered what I now was, and I slipped from the saddle to begin leading my horse by foot. 

Even then, no one approached me, and I saw that there was no hope for it but that I would have to make the first move. Scanning the crowd, my eye lit upon Myles the village baron, with whom I had grown up as a boy. I turned and came over to stand beside him as the rest of the village slowly crept up to watch. "Good day to you, Myles," I said. 

Even as a boy, Myles had never been at a loss for words. Now he managed to reply, "And to you, Lord Carle." 

"It is just Carle now," I replied quietly. "I passed your field on the way here. Are those new horses?" 

Myles's mind was filled from waking to sleep with thoughts of horses, and he welcomed this opportunity to tell me about his latest finds. By the end of his speech, all the villagers were surrounding us. Finally Myles accumulated the boldness to ask me, "What brings you back to Peaktop?" 

I had had time during his speech to rehearse what I would say, but that did not make the moment any easier, especially as I was wondering what I would do if my law-loving baron made it clear that I was no longer welcome in his village. "I have been dismissed from the Great Council, sir," I said. (I remembered this time whom I was addressing.) "I was found guilty of my crime and sentenced to mercy. The Chara has allowed me to return to my home." 

I had meant to say "generously allowed," but the words stuck in my throat. A silence followed, longer than any I could ever remember. The baron looked over to his wife for help. She, folding her arms and looking me sternly in the face, said, "Then shame on the Chara! How could he throw you out like that, after all the good work you've done for him over the years?" 

There was a murmur of agreement around her. A month before I would have charged to the Chara's defense, but now I remained silent and accepted the judgment of the people to whom the law was given. 

o—o—o

"Doesn't look like it'll ever melt, does it?" said Kendrick the shopkeeper, coming to stand by my side in the muddy street that had just been shovelled clear that morning. "We haven't had any peddlers come through since the one that visited, oh, a few days after you arrived. And he didn't carry anything of use to me, just gossip from the city to entertain the women-folk." 

"Any news of interest?" My eye was on the deep blanket of snow on the landscape below the mountain. I was a great lover of Emorian winters, but I had forgotten over the years the feeling of imprisonment that villagers acquire when they are cut off from other villages and towns for month after month. Southern Emor receives little snow in comparison with the Central Provinces of Emor, but what falls does not melt until springtime. The first snowstorm effectively cuts off all travel through the black border mountains; after about a month of snowfall, the other country roads in the land cannot be kept clear. 

Kendrick looked at me with the side of the eye, and I guessed that the confirmation of my exile had been one of the pieces of gossip the peddler brought. But the shopkeeper only said, "Oh, nothing of importance, just some talk about rising prices in the city, and new rules of trading, and some high matter concerning the Great Council." He spoke the final phrase as though he were mentioning a distant war that did not concern us. 

"Oh?" I tried to sound suitably disinterested. "Anything that might affect the village council?" 

Kendrick started, apparently remembering who I had been. I supposed it was a tribute to my assimilation back into village life that no one had thought to mention the palace news to me before. He furrowed his brow and said, "Well, now, let me see. It was something about them not looking for a new lord yet because of the High Lord wanting to change the rules of rank. Something about juniors and seniors – didn't quite understand it myself." 

"He wanted to eliminate the distinction between junior lords and senior lords?" 

"That's right, that's right. The peddler didn't seem to think that the other council lords would allow the change – they're awfully set in their ways, those lords are – and the High Lord didn't appear eager to fight them on the matter, what with him being so new and all. Said he'd save his energy for the big battles." 

"I imagine he'll have plenty of those." A keen blade of pain went through me then as I wondered what else was happening in the council that I would never hear about in this isolated place. For the briefest of moments I played with the idea of moving to the city, where the palace gossip was thick. Then I thought of what it would be like to move amongst men and women who were strangers to me but who might recognize who I was. 

"Anyway, it's a real hard winter, it is," said the shopkeeper, patiently bringing the conversation back to the subject that was obviously on his mind. 

"Yes, indeed." I glanced at him. "Is there anything I can do to help with your business, Kendrick?" 

Kendrick cleared his throat. It took him several more minutes to reach the point of his speech. It seemed that this charitable man had taken to giving out food to some of the poorer folk in the village who were in desperate need of supplies, since two months' worth of deep and unthawed snow had made it hard for men to go hunting. Now, though, the shopkeeper's own supplies were beginning to run short. 

"Well," I said, my eye still on the icy whiteness before me, "you know that the harvest from my trees was poor this year, but I will have Selwyn send by whatever dried fruit we have left in store so that you can distribute it." 

I cut short his thanks and began to make my way back up the road, my boots sinking in the spongy ground as I went. By the time I arrived back at the house, I was covered in mud up to my knees, but I did not bother to call for one of the servants. I had cut back on the number of my slave-servants the previous month, freeing a married couple who had friends in the village who would be willing to take them in. It was indeed a hard winter, and even my prosperous household was finding it difficult to stretch the food. 

Selwyn said as much to me and more when I told him of my conversation with Kendrick. He had been my orchard-keeper for thirty years and had served in the household for many years before that, and so he had the blunt manner of a faithful servant who knows his place well enough to be able to step out of it in times of importance. 

"It's not just the food for us that worries me, sir," he said. "I had planned to sell the remaining apples in the spring to try to pay off the debt we accumulated last autumn when the sales went so badly. If you give away the rest of your crop, I doubt we'll be able to pay the debt in time, and we stood the orchard in surety of the payment. If you lose the orchard, then the house goes as well; we don't have money coming in any more except from the trees, to keep up a place like this." 

We were in my study chamber. The fire next to us was making a desperate attempt to stay alive despite the flurry of snow that flung itself down the chimney and choked the flames. I said, "You haven't mentioned this before." 

"I didn't like to, sir, not with the troubles you've been having recently. But I don't know what you'd do if you lost the orchard. It's not as though you're at the time of your life when you can take up new work." He looked nervous then, knowing that he had far overstepped his bounds. 

"It would be a hard predicament for you and the servants as well," I said. 

"Oh, you needn't worry about us," said Selwyn without bravado. "You've trained us all well; we'd do good at any job we took our hands to. Do you remember how I was, sir, when I first came as free-servant here as a boy? Wild and reckless as an untamed pony I was, and under your father's care I might have grown worse out of sheer defiance of his discipline. But then you took over the household. Young though you were, you seemed to have a special knack for balancing vengeance and mercy. You taught me self-discipline, sir, and I'll ever be grateful to you for that." 

This impetuous speech told me, more than Selwyn's previous words, how bad the situation was. Selwyn would not be saying such things to me unless he expected the imminent breakup of the household. I said, "I think I should look over the record books – not that I imagine you have missed anything, but it will give me a better idea of how much money we need to raise. If you'll come by again before dinner this evening, we can discuss the matter." 

Selwyn agreed to send over the books, and left with a look of rising hope in his eyes that did not match my own thoughts. Selwyn was too good at his work not to have thought out all possibilities. 

For several minutes I stared at the fire, which was doing its best to turn snow into rain. At last I moved away from the warmth, went over to a chest nearby, and unlocked it. Reaching inside, I pushed aside Adrian's journal, which over the years I had never found the courage to read, for unlike him, I had not willingly faced certain death. Now I knew that I could read it with ease, but tonight my thoughts were elsewhere. From the trunk I pulled the unfinished manuscript of my memoir. 

It was the only belonging I had brought with me from the palace. So great had been my haste to leave the place before the Chara saw me again that I had even decided to leave behind my law books, telling myself that I would have Curtis bring them when he followed me to the village. But when I arrived at my palace quarters, I had found Curtis's resignation letter awaiting me there, so I had abandoned the books where they were, knowing that I would not be able to send someone to retrieve them until the spring thaw. 

For forty years, I had not gone more than a day without reading the law. Now I had done so for over a month. 

It was for this reason that I had accepted Myles's offer when he appeared at my door a few days after my arrival home and asked whether I would care to attend a village council meeting. In fact, there was no official need for him to ask me; in a village as small as mine, all interested free-men attend the council. Nonetheless, since I had grown up in the village, and my early character was better known there than my later character, Myles may have guessed my shyness in rejoining village life. 

It was like offering hard bread to a man who is accustomed to fine cooking, but a starving man does not reject food of any kind. Soon afterwards I found myself sitting in the chilly village hall, debating with polite ferocity whether chickens should be brought to the town market in cages or bags. 

There was one tricky moment when Myles offered to cede mastership of the council to me; I mumbled something about wishing to take greater part in the debates than the head councilman is usually permitted. But I left the hall in a pleasant glow of feeling that I had been given back something lost. 

Now, though, my mind was on the conversation I had held with Kendrick, and I began flipping through the pages of my memoir. Carefully avoiding all the passages that referred to Peter, I settled down to read about a mid-autumn debate in the Great Council concerning the Law of Succession. 

I never finished the scene. Halfway through, I pushed aside the pages, laid my head in my arms, and sat there for a long while, wishing that I had taken advantage of my broken inhibitions in prison to weep when I still had the ability to do so. 

I would have drowned in the blackness of my memories for much longer, but I was forced back into the painful present by a badly sung tune that racked my head over and over. After the sixth time the song was repeated, I went to the door, flung it open, and beckoned to my housekeeper, who was on the point of laying some books next to my door. 

"Fidelia, would you kindly find out who is making that noise and ensure that it does not continue?" I said. 

The housekeeper, normally a good-natured woman, gave a look of exasperation down the corridor toward the singing. "I'm sorry, sir. It's that new Daxion slave that came last winter. I've scolded her time and again, but apparently those Daxions allow their slaves to sing, and it's hard to train her out of it." 

I listened to her from politeness; my eye was on the volumes she was holding, which I recognized as the household record books. "Well, see that she receives the message this time. I have some difficult arithmetic to do this afternoon." And with that, I took from her arms the hated records. 

Several hours later, with my writing-table filled with papers containing hastily jotted figures, I had reached my conclusion. Sighing, I began gathering together the record books, the notes, and the pages of my memoir. My gaze fell on the memoir once more, and I saw the sentence where I described Andrew in the Council Chamber, his thoughts impenetrable as always. 

It occurred to me, as I locked away the manuscript, that I still knew very little about my former slave-servant. Though I knew from Peter that both of Andrew's parents were dead, I did not know whether Andrew had any other kin in Koretia. I did not know what sort of life Andrew had led in Koretia or what sort of boy he had been at that time. Nor did I know the exact circumstances by which Andrew had come to be enslaved or what had happened to him during the weeks preceding the moment when I first saw him watching me with cold arrogance on the slave-seller's platform. 

Something Peter had once said to me drifted back into my mind, a statement about it being possible to give false witness with the truth. This statement revealed only that Peter was learned in the law; one of the subsections of the Law of Witness makes it a crime to give evidence which is truthful but which leaves out important facts that change the character of the evidence. Peter had once told me that the court summoners rarely invoked this particular subsection because the Chara had found in practice that every witness distorts the truth by seeing only that which is of immediate interest to him. "Of course," Peter added, "there are some people who make more effort at ignoring the full truth than others." And his gaze had lingered on me in a manner that I could not understand. 

My thoughts were startled away by the sound of a knock on the door. My visitor was Selwyn. The first thing I said to him after we had walked over to the fireside was, "I want you to send those apples over to Kendrick in the morning." 

Selwyn opened his mouth, took another look at my face, and said, "Yes, sir." 

"As for the question of the debt, you are right in regarding this as a serious matter. We will have to do whatever we can to stave off the crisis; we may be able to delay matters until next autumn's crop. Once the road to the city is open again, I'll send you to the palace, where you can sell my belongings there. The books should bring in a good price." 

"The books, sir?" 

"My law books. There are only about a dozen complete sets in this land, so one of the other coun—" I caught myself, and continued, "One of the council lords may be interested in buying them. There are also some items in this house which can be sold – that vase, for example." I carefully avoided looking toward the mantelpiece, where stood my father's wedding gift to my mother. 

Now eager to offer suggestions, Selwyn said, "You own an old brooch also, don't you?" 

I turned toward the fire quickly, poking it with the iron. "I'm afraid I lost that some time ago; it's probably sitting in a garbage heap somewhere. At any rate, you and Fidelia can discuss together what other items can be spared from the house. It is not as though I have any sons to leave an inheritance to." 

"No, sir," murmured Selwyn, mindful once more of what I might be feeling. He made his exit quickly, leaving me staring into the fire. 

Vaguely I was aware that his place had been taken by someone else – one of the servants, come to clean the room. I continued to stare at the flames, watching their slow death under the assault of the snow. My thoughts were only broken by the sound of crashing pottery. 

At my feet lay the vase my father had given my mother, the vase I had hoped would bring in enough money to keep this household running for an extra month or two. Beyond the vase was the slave-servant, a dark-skinned woman of about twenty years. From the manner in which she stood, making no effort to bend toward the pieces, it was clear that she had deliberately broken the vase. 

I opened my mouth to roar at her, and in that moment I caught a glimpse of her eyes: they were cold and fierce. 

The words died on my lips, and a shiver went down my spine. I continued to stare at her in what for me was bewilderment, but for her must have appeared like preparation for a particularly terrible show of wrath. For in the end, rather than say anything to me, she fled the room. 

I stared down at the fragmented vase. As I did so, a memory rose to my mind's surface of a man. The memory had been buried so deep that the man's existence had hitherto been struck from the scroll of my life, though his roots in me travelled deeper than those of Andrew, deeper even than those of Adrian. He was a man who was feared and hated by all who knew him, a man who abused and mutilated his slaves, a man who with his dying breath urged me to wear the royal emblem brooch to the palace "to honor the Chara," and who thus took his revenge against me for my decision to run away from home at age sixteen. He was a man whose words cut harder than a whip and who was noted for his cold, dark smile. My greatest fear as a child had been that I would grow up to be like my father. 

I knelt down and laboriously gathered together the pieces of the broken vase before placing them with the rubbish. 

o—o—o

Several hours later I stood in my sleeping chamber, sipping cheap wall-vine wine from a cup and staring down at a pile of my valuables. 

Though I had tried to paint a picture of myself at the Ambassador's reception as a common man, I had always known that I was the richest man in my village. Most of my wealth, however, lay in the land and the house, neither of which I could sell without disposing of the servants who made this their home. I had retained my house and land all these years, not only for their sake, but also because I had always planned to leave my inheritance to the Chara. He could never visit here himself, of course, but it would please him to know that he owned one of the few orchards in Emor. 

Now there were still the servants to consider. I stared down at the pile of loose items on the table before me – an Arpeshian tapestry, a sculpted ship model from Surgano, and other such luxuries – and added their value in my head a second time. I did not like the answer any more this time than I had on my first calculation. Still considering the matter, I brought the wine cup up toward my lips, and my gaze fell on the court clerk's neat inscription on the side of the gold cup: "Presented to Carle, Lord of the Great Council, on the occasion of the enthronement of Peter, the Great Chara." Below that, laboriously engraved in another hand, were the words "with love." 

The sound of footsteps in the corridor jerked me out of my thoughts. I went to the door and said, "Fidelia? What are you doing up at this hour?" 

The housekeeper had a gown hastily flung around her. She waved ahead the slave-girl who had been leading her. "It's that Daxion girl, sir, the one that caused trouble for you this afternoon. She has been keeping the other servant-women awake with her crying – poor girl, she has only herself to blame. You wouldn't be beating her tomorrow if she hadn't gone and broken that vase." 

"Beating her?" I held the door open with one hand; my other hand was still curled around the cup. 

"Yes, sir. She told the other servants about it, about how you had delayed beating her tonight." 

"I think that you had better send her up to see me, Fidelia," I said quietly. 

Fidelia looked worried – knowing how I had treated my slave-servants over the years, she had reason to be – but she curtsied and hurried off toward the servants' quarters. I closed the door and went over to stand by the southern window. On a winter as cold as this one, it made no difference whether I left the shutters open or closed, and throughout the evening I had found myself drifting back to this view. 

The new moon had arrived, but I could see outlined against the star-punctured sky the shape of the black border mountains. A little closer than them, gleaming white under torchlight, was the tiny shape of the Chara's palace. I looked at it for a while, sipping the last of my wine. Then, as I heard footsteps in the corridor again, I turned and placed the cup carefully on the pile of items to be sold. 

The door opened, and the housekeeper ushered in the Daxion slave, before leaving us alone together. I looked at her for a while, considering her face. She had been sent to me as an attempted bribe from the Daxion King. Peter, when I consulted him, had suggested that I keep her, as it might help his High Lord to learn more about the people of Daxis. 

Like the Koretians, Daxions are dark in complexion. I could see on the slave's brown cheek the remains of tear-stains, but she stared at me coldly. 

I said impassively, "First of all, Grace, I have no intention of beating you for what happened this evening. These sorts of incidents occur even in the best-run households." 

She hesitated before saying with trembling defiance, "I broke the vase on purpose." 

"I know that you did. I know that you broke it because I had Fidelia stop your singing earlier. I had forgotten, when I issued that order, what music means to you Daxions." 

All the defiance drained from her. She was left staring at me in astonishment and uncertainty. I said, in the gentle voice I had been training myself to use toward my slave-servants, "It is always difficult for me to remember that Emorian customs are not practiced everywhere. Here in Emor, slaves are not allowed to sing; I'm sure that it is different in your music-filled native land. It is not a matter of great importance to me, but it is to you. Tomorrow I will instruct Fidelia to allow you and the other servants to sing whenever you wish." 

This speech left poor Grace mute. I was eager to be alone again, but I thought it best to take this opportunity to get to know the Daxion woman better, so I said, "Your Emorian is very good. Were you taught the language before you came here?" 

"No, sir. It wasn't that hard to learn once I arrived here." She searched my face, and I waited. Daxis is the land of bards who sing long tales; consequently, Daxions are more talkative than any other people in the Three Lands. I was willing to guess that, if she extended her trust to me, she would be eager to tell me some tale of her life. 

I guessed right. She said, "I did learn a little Emorian when I was at home." 

I waved her onto a footstool that sat next to the table piled with goods, and then I took up a seat opposite her, with my back to the window. She said, still hesitant, "It was only a few words. I learned them from a prisoner I met in the King's dungeon." 

"Is that where you worked?" I asked, turning aside to toss another log onto the fire. It was from the last of my fuel-wood – after this pile, I would have to use commoners' peat rather than logs in my fires – but I imagined that my southern-born slave was feeling the winter chill more than I was. 

"Sometimes I was sent there with messages. This man taught me a few words – just as much as I would need to know to greet my new master. I had learned that I was going to be sent to Emor, you see." 

"What was the Emorian imprisoned for?" I asked, trying to stretch out Grace's tale, since it seemed to be nearing its end. 

"Oh, he wasn't Emorian; he was Koretian. He had been arrested for spying." 

I was in the midst of pushing a log further into the fire. After a moment I realized that I was in danger of burning myself and snatched my hand back. Grace didn't notice; she was catapulted into her story by now. "He was standing hand-bound between two guards. I wouldn't have paid any attention to him except that he was outside the door to the cell where the King's Torturer worked, awaiting his turn. There were terrible screams going on inside, and I thought how odd it was that he was listening to all this without showing any emotion at all. When he saw me looking at him, he greeted me, and I thought that I could at least talk to him and keep his mind off of the noise. The guards didn't mind. I think they were nervous at how calm he seemed." 

"What did you talk about?" I asked. I needed to occupy myself somehow, so now I was piling all of the remaining wood in careful, symmetrical patterns. 

"He said that he had lived in Emor once, so we talked about this land and the things that I might like here. We talked about my new master." 

"You talked about me?" I had forgotten what pattern I was making the logs conform to, so I simply piled the wood together in a haphazard manner. 

"I didn't know who my new master was going to be then; we just talked about Emorian masters in general. He said that Emorians were often cruel, but even their cruelty could be of some use." 

"Did he say how?" I still did not want to look Grace's way, so I began placing the wood on the fire, causing the flames to shoot upwards. 

"Not at first, but at the end, when I had to leave, he said that he was frightened of what was going to happen to him, but that he had been tortured once before, and that made it easier to face a second time. Then he said – I wasn't sure whether he meant this as a joke, because he said all this without changing his expression – he said that it was a shame that he would never have the opportunity to tell the Emorian who had first tortured him what a debt he owed him. It was such an odd thing to say. That was why I remembered the prisoner." 

Grace had that look of fulfillment on her face which I had seen in Daxion bards when they have been given their first opportunity to sing a new song. Overlaid on top of her I could begin to see memories crowding into my sleeping chamber. One slipped through before I could force it back: Andrew standing in the army captain's tent and saying, "I make good use of all the training I have received over the years, Lord Carle – even the training I received from you." Then the memories crashed through the barrier of my previous obliviousness. 

There came to me the image of an ambassador returning to a land where he had once lived and confronting in cold fear the man who had threatened his life ten years before. Words came to me with the image: the Ambassador's tentative try at a compliment, which I had interpreted as sarcasm, but which could not be that, for no one except Peter had ever known that I disliked Lord Dean. 

After that, the images came flitting rapidly, like the missing pages of a witness's testimony: Andrew attending a council meeting and openly leaving after the subcommanders' reports. Andrew speaking to Peter in the garden where I was known to wander. Andrew conversing with James in my own council quarters. Andrew going into the Labyrinth minutes after James and I had entered there and leaving a door carefully ajar. Andrew speaking candidly to James in my presence and yet more candidly to me after James was gone. Andrew going into the clerk's room with James, after ascertaining that I would follow. Andrew appearing in the army headquarters on the same day he must have known that Peter and I would be there. 

The words came to me as well: words which Andrew knew would reveal to me, one of the Chara's spies, that he himself was spying, so that these would be reported to Peter and perhaps negate the need for him to do any further spying. Words listing his grievances toward me, in case I might wish to offer an explanation. And above all, words of casual friendliness, to show me what our relationship might be. 

It was a deceit greater than I had ever suspected of Andrew. Yet it was a deception composed on a base of open vulnerability, even to the point of Andrew revealing his self-doubts as we left the army headquarters; I wondered now what full story lay behind his Arpeshian murder. He had stripped himself of all defenses and weapons, he had left himself naked to my sword of wit, and then I had gone to the inner garden and attacked him, an unarmed man. 

I became aware that I had piled the last of the wood on the fire and that it was now turning black under the flames. Grace was still awaiting my comments, though without apprehension; I supposed that, in Daxis, the natural response to a bard's song was to sit in long silence. 

I said, "I'm glad that you spoke to this spy; it is a tale I would not have wanted to miss. But I had better let you go to your bed now, or neither of us will be able to get any work done in the morning. The only thing more I will say about what happened this evening is that, if you have any other troubles with your duties, I expect you to come to me with them. I do not want to hear about them through another person's witness next time." 

Grace rose, curtsied, and left with that deeply satisfied look which comes upon Daxions when they have sung their songs; I could hear her begin to hum as I closed the door to the corridor. Then I turned, and saw standing by the window two boys. 

I knew where I was; I had lived this scene many times. Yet there was a change in what had happened on previous occasions. It was winter, the boys were framed against a view of the black border mountains – that much was the same. What was different was the vision that came from my mind. Now, for the first time, I saw the thoughts and motives that had lain deep inside me, which I had willfully shielded myself from in an attempt to remain ignorant of what I truly was. 

The two boys were staring at one another, one fair-haired and fourteen, the other dark-haired and eleven. Their gazes were fastened on each other with such deep intimacy that I felt a lurch in my heart. Never, I knew, would I be able to look upon the Chara's son in that way; never would I be able to break down the barrier between servant and master in the way that this slave-boy was doing. The slave-boy was giving something to the Chara's son that I was unable to give. 

The Chara's son turned away finally, having drunk his fill of harmony, and stared out at the mountains bordering Koretia. He said, "This is a beautiful view. But why are you standing here in Lord Carle's quarters, where he might find you? And isn't it a late hour to be watching?" 

"There are no windows in the slave-quarters." The slave-boy's voice, which I was used to hearing as cool and arrogant, had a soft warmth about it now. "And I'm not eager to return to my bed. I have bad dreams on many nights, and I cry out. That wakes the other slaves, and they complain to Lord Carle's free-servant, who tells Lord Carle, and then I'm punished." 

"He ought to give you your own room," murmured the Chara's son. Then he looked toward the slave-boy, and I caught the moment when they exchanged with their eyes silent knowledge of my irreformable brutality. The Chara's son slowly smiled, a smile filled with patient pity toward me. "Yes, I can just see how he'd react if I told him that. 'Lord Carle, you punish your slave because he has nightmares. Would it not be better to give him his own chamber?' Should I go ask him that now?" 

There was the slightest of hesitations; then the slave-boy's rigid face transformed into lines I had never seen before. It was as great a change as that which the Chara's son would undergo on the night of his enthronement. The slave-boy was now smiling. 

The buried part of me knew that this was a moment of great benefit to the slave-boy. The anger he presently felt toward me, which might some day become uncontrollable rage, was being transformed into tolerant amusement. But I did not want the slave-boy's pity, nor did I want him to be smiling with friendship toward the boy whom I had already claimed as my own. I stepped forward and said coldly, "I would be happy to answer any questions the Chara's son has." 

The Chara's son went rigid. By the time he turned to face me, his smile had disappeared. Beside him, the slave-boy's smile lingered a few seconds longer, as though he were unable to believe that this idyllic scene had been destroyed. Then his expression turned to fear. 

"I am sorry to have disturbed you, Lord Carle," the Chara's son said. He was watching me with a guarded expression, waiting to see whether I would demonstrate toward him my famous cruelty. "I fear I have also been disturbing your slave, whom I waylaid to learn whether he could give me information on Koretia, as my father wishes me to learn more about that land. I suppose that I ought to have listened closely to what you were telling me just now about not striking up conversations with slaves." 

My gaze fell upon the emblem brooch I had given him only minutes before. I had given it to him out of love, and that love was without limit. Mixed in with it, however, was a desire for sole possession of the boy's affection. Both emotions caused me to bow toward the Chara's son and say, "I am sure that the Chara's son has done nothing wrong tonight. I look forward to continuing our conversation again some other time." 

The Chara's son left without a word, though I saw his gaze drift back anxiously toward the slave-boy. I knew that he wanted me to show mercy toward this boy as well. I knew also that I had sworn to carry out the wishes of the Chara and his heir whenever it lay in my ability. 

The slave-boy stood before me, still framed by the outside scene. For some reason, the mountains seemed more distant than usual, and I could see a faint white dot below them which I could not identify. The sight of that dot cut a wound of loneliness into me, but I was too impatient to want to know why. I switched my gaze to the slave-boy. 

He was awaiting my judgment, and I could see, through my newly awoken vision, that there was hope in his eyes. Since coming in exile to Emor, he had experienced nothing but pain and loneliness. Now, beyond belief, the Chara's son had spoken to him in friendship and brought succor to his wounds. If this could happen, anything could happen. Perhaps even I— 

I struck him to the ground with one blow. He stayed where he was, defeated, his hand rising up to touch the blood on his cheek. I could see in his eyes the swift death of hope. 

"You never learn," I said with soft viciousness. 

The words reverberated around me. A cold breeze entered the room, blinding my eyes. Then I saw that I was alone. There was no one to hear my words but myself.


	21. Sacrifice | 1

##  **_Law of Vengeance 6_**

##  **SACRIFICE**

> _Sacrifice (law term):_ Ancient passage within a law, which is seldom evoked in modern times.

  
**CHAPTER ONE**   
**987 a.g.l., and beyond**   


> _The oldest laws – the Great Three – contain a sixth division not found in later laws. This division recalls the time during the early Charas when a man could offer himself as a substitute for any prisoner who was going to be punished. The Sacrifice division has fallen into disuse since then, but its description of the procedures by which a man can offer up his body or life for another is in many ways a fitting culmination for the study of the law. It reminds us that, although the word "friendship" does not occur anywhere in the law books, the law was founded, like friendship, on a base of self-sacrifice. The duties of the law are of course different from the duties of friendship, just as the law of Emor is different from the law of Koretia, but both duties and both laws find common ground in the concept that a man of complete dedication must be prepared to sacrifice himself for the sake of that which he loves most._
> 
> —From the High Lord's paper (revised version).

  
o—o—o

Over the years, one of my perquisites as a council lord had been the opportunity to make visits to the far reaches of the Emorian Empire. My most pleasurable trip had occurred during the months after Nicholas's death and before Peter's enthronement, when the Chara To Be had asked me to accompany him on his final peacetime journey to the northern dominions, where Emor's hold is most tenuous. 

We followed the vanguard of spring creeping up from the south, first travelling through Southern Emor, the ancient heart of the empire; then along the western ocean coast through Torkel, Flondaire, Harnithen, and James's province of Surgano. All of these provinces, along with the other Central Provinces of Emor, were sovereign nations before they were conquered by the Emorian army. Then, for many centuries, they were dominions, held in uneasy control by the Chara. Finally they were absorbed into Emor, retaining their particular customs, but uniting with Southern Emor through their love of the Chara and his law. 

Our journey ended in Arpesh and Marcadia, Emor's northern dominions, which were conquered less than a century ago. Except for Koretia and Daxion, the entire Great Peninsula now lies under Emor's control. Beyond the dominions lie only the frozen wastes of the barbaric mainland nations. 

We did not travel that far north; Arpesh and Marcadia proved cold enough as it was. Spring arrives at the dominions in a frighteningly sudden manner, when the snows turn instantly to water and flood most of the land. It is an amazing sight. It was only the relatively smaller amount of snowfall that prevented Southern Emor from undergoing the same devastation at the beginning of the third month of my exile, when the temperature suddenly rose and melted all the snow in the space of one April morning. 

It was on the following afternoon that I looked up from the orchard trees that I was inspecting and saw the Chara's private messenger galloping toward me on a horse white with sweat. 

Dunne slid smoothly from the horse, glanced briefly at the animal to be sure that it was not going to founder on the spot, and handed me a letter without a word. The letter was sealed – not that this made any difference where Dunne was concerned – and the seal was in the shape of a god-mask with no features. I tore the seal open and read the letter's contents.   


> _To Carle son of Verne:_
> 
> _Peter has requested your return. Will you come? The matter is urgent._
> 
> _Andrew son of Gideon_

  
The letter was dated three days before. I could guess that Dunne had spent the intervening time trying fruitlessly to travel through the snowbound roads to my village. I looked up at Dunne, who was watching me with an impenetrable expression. "Lord Andrew gave you this himself?" I said. 

There was a pause while Dunne considered this; answering questions was not one of Dunne's customs, but he and I had known each other for many years. Finally he said, "Yes. He bore the royal badge." 

I gave Dunne a sharp look. He and I both knew that the badge did not entitle Andrew to use the Chara's messenger. Evidently Dunne had been told more than the letter's contents. I looked down at the message again, my eye lingering on the word "requested." 

Dunne said in his usual low voice, "I have one more message from Lord Andrew. He asked me to remind you of the message you had him deliver to the Chara while in Koretia, and of the reason you gave him for delivering the message. He says that he wishes to invoke the same reason for you to follow the request in this letter." 

I was still for a while longer before pulling my gaze from the letter. "Are you headed back to the palace now?" 

"I have no instructions on the matter." There was a momentary gleam of amusement in his eye as he added, "I would prefer to rest my horse for a bit." 

I took the horse's reins from him. "Go to my house and rest there as long as you wish. I'll take your horse to the stable. I am sorry that I cannot loan you a fresh horse; I have only one, and I will need it myself." 

Dunne gave me a final look, as though memorizing the face of a man he was not sure he would see again, and then slipped away from my side, leaving me with the trembling horse. 

o—o—o

Many years had passed since I rode like I did that day. If anyone had suggested previously that an old man such as myself could ride with the same speed as the twenty-two-year-old youth I had been when I learned of Adrian's danger, I would have laughed. But such was my single-mindedness in reaching the palace that I did not wonder whether I was riding to my salvation or my doom. I arrived at the palace gates after nightfall in a fresh state. 

I arrived by way of the east gate in order to place my horse in the stables there; as I entered the palace grounds, I passed Brian. Since his marriage, the Chara's clerk had spent fewer of his evenings working in the palace and more of them staying at his city house with his young family. Now he seemed absorbed in thoughts of home and did not notice me as he brushed past me. 

I entered the palace through the main doors, ignoring the startled expressions of the guards there. The corridors were largely deserted now, but Neville was walking back from the Council Chamber and caught sight of me. For a moment, his face held the expression of a man who has encountered a corpse whom he thought long buried. Then I saw calculation enter into his eyes, and he said quickly, "This is a fine sight to witness, Carle. I did not realize that the Chara had called you back to his service. James will be sorry to let go of the reins of power, but many of us have missed your fire." 

"Where is Lord Andrew?" I asked tersely. 

"In the Chara's quarters. But—" His voice rose as I began to step away. "The spears are crossed in front of the Chara's door, and he has allowed almost no one into his quarters for three days. He has even turned James away." 

I heard what he said but made no reply; I was already hurrying down the corridor toward the Chara's door. There I found, not the usual two guards, but four guards, the sort of assembly that usually occurs only when the Chara is in war council or must decide a particularly delicate court case in private. As I approached the door, the spears lifted, but it appeared that they were not doing so for me. A man was leaving the Chara's quarters. I recognized his face as he turned away, and I felt my breath catch against the back of my throat; then I resolutely went up to the door. The spears remained up. One of the guards said, "You are to go straight to the back, sir." 

I nodded and entered the quarters. I walked back to the end of the sitting chamber, stood a moment as I girded my courage for what I now expected to see, and opened the door to the sleeping chamber. 

Andrew was sitting on the bed. He looked up, and I saw that the skin around his eyes was black; I knew, without asking, that he had been awake for most of the past three days. He stared at me with that cool, distant look which had angered me for so many years. Then his gaze fell once more to the Chara, lying cradled in his arms. 

I did not realize that I had moved until I was on one knee beside the bed, reaching out to touch the Chara's face. His eyes were closed; his throat was still and cold. I said in my usual, even tone, "When?" 

Andrew was a long time replying, and I found that my gaze had drifted up toward him. This time he did not meet my eyes, but said, "Less than an hour ago, I believe." His voice had always been precise and short since the day he consciously adopted the man's voice of which I had denied him natural use; now it was so brief as to sound rude. But he added, in words that gave the full witness, "I am not really sure." 

I did not reply, and after a moment he slid himself out from under the Chara's body and went to stand by the window. I remained staring at Peter. All the lines of pain and grief and weariness that he had accumulated over the years had been ironed smooth during the past hour; he might have been a boy again. Only around his eyes did there remain incisions so deep that it was as though a stone-carver had cut them into Peter's face in order to tell the tale of his life during the past few months. 

I said, "You do not need to tell me how it happened. I was with his father when he died, and I can see that it was the same here." 

Andrew said, "Lord Dean told me once that all of the Charas die young. At the time, I did not realize what that meant for Peter." 

His voice was as detached as though he were speaking of a stranger. I took another look at the still figure staring out of the southern window and went over to stand by him. He said not a word, and I remembered the tearless silence he had given me when he was eleven years old and I had had him beaten. Cold and stubborn I had thought him then. But now, as I saw his face molded into the same dispassionate mask he wore every day, I realized that he had spoken the truth when I overheard him talking with Peter in the garden. It was not that he was unwilling to cry; he was unable to do so. And the cause of that terrible enslavement of emotion was myself. 

I had lain down my arms against him unwillingly, for he had long been my enemy. But now, seeing the motionless, emotionless figure whom I had first encountered as a vigorous and passionate boy, I knew the full extent of the mercy he had shown toward me. What I could give him now was small in comparison to what he had given me. 

Slowly I reached out and put an arm around his back. 

For a moment he remained still. Then, in one swift motion, he crumpled himself against my shoulder, his face already moist by the time it touched my skin. His body shivered as though he had chill-fever. I took a firmer grip on him and held him for many minutes more as he shook and wept. 

He finally pulled himself away and stared at me with eyes still wet with tears. I wondered how it was that Peter had guessed what lay behind the stone-hard expression that Andrew had worn since I bought him, and what methods he had used to lure Andrew out from behind his mask. Perhaps they were the same methods Peter had used with me. 

I said softly, "He was lucky to have you here." 

Andrew turned slightly to look out the window once more. "I thought that you would hate me for being here with him, when you were not." 

"Perhaps I would have, this time last year. But leaving aside what you and I have undergone since then, I would not have wanted the Chara to die without his most loyal friend at his side." 

Andrew leaned his elbows against the windowsill, and then rested his chin on his fists in a gesture I had seen Peter make on many occasions. After a time, he said, "I showed my so-called loyalty toward him by spending the last three days fighting with him." 

"I am sure that you had good reason to do so." 

"He was being stubborn – he was stubborn as only a Chara can be. He knew what it was that he wanted to do, but he was too ill to be able to listen to my advice. He wouldn't reverse his command to you. I tried to make him see how hard it would be for you to disobey his order, but he said that this was a matter which went beyond the law and that you would understand. Then he said that I wasn't to tell you he was dying. He said that his request would be enough – that you always came when he needed you." Andrew's voice grew quieter. "He had hoped that you would arrive here in time for him to be able to speak to you himself. And then, when the end came, he was too weak to say much. But he asked me to point out to you that he is wearing the royal emblem brooch again." 

My eyes slid back to the Chara. I had missed seeing what he was wearing, so absorbed was I in observing his face. Something bit at the back of my throat, and I spoke the words that I had been thinking since I first entered the room: "I do not deserve such generosity. I drove him to his death." 

"We both did," said Andrew. "We have been tearing him to pieces since he first met us, both of us using him as a shield in our quarrels and ignoring the wounds we were inflicting upon him. Anyone who truly loved Peter the way we claimed to love him would have seen what we were doing to him last autumn. But I was too intent on seeking payment from you for what you had done to me. I took a blood vow once to kill the Chara, and now I have fulfilled it." 

He spoke with the cold brutality he had always used against me, and which I now saw that he had always used against himself as well. Peter had told me that Andrew thought poorly of himself; Andrew himself had told me that he had once tried to kill himself. It was yet another instance of how little I had paid attention to the words spoken to me. 

I said, using the unsparing language which he and I shared and which had made Peter seek both our friendships, "We cannot change what has happened; we will have to live with what we have done. The most we can do is honor the dead by carrying out his wishes. Is there anything the Chara wanted me to do for him?" 

"To take up the High Lordship once more." 

I stood silently, my right hand grasping open air where my sword would normally be. I had not wanted to wear my free-man's weapon in the Chara's presence, as I had been uncertain how I was being tested; nor had I known in what manner the Chara would treat my disobedience. 

Andrew said, "No one knows of the Chara's death except Brian and the physician. Peter knew what his death would mean to Emor; he was depending on you to lead others through the crisis that must follow. Will you do that?" 

"If the Chara wished that, then of course I will," I replied briefly. 

"Then there remains the question of the timing. The Chara left two alternative documents in your care: one appoints you as High Lord before his death, while the other appoints you as High Lord after his death." 

I frowned. "This is very mysterious. May I assume that the Chara had a reason for this?" 

Andrew did not reply. Instead he went back to the bed, lifted a cushion beside the Chara, and pulled out a couple of pieces of paper. I noticed that he was careful not to touch Peter's hand, which was curled around the Pendant of Judgment. I remembered Nicholas holding the pendant in the same manner upon his death, and how Peter had taken it from his hand, released finally from his father's direct command not to touch the pendant, though not yet sure whether he wished to wear the Chara's power of judgment. 

Andrew handed me the papers without comment. These proved to be the documents he had promised, the ones that appointed me as High Lord, but they contained a great deal more information than that. I began to read the first document, jerked my head up to look at Andrew, and then continued on to the end of the page. As I began reading the next page, Andrew said, "He made three documents, each containing a different name. He said that you would know which one to use." 

"There are two documents here." 

"The other contained my name; I burnt it. I pointed out to Peter that it went against his duty as the Chara to write such a document. I also pointed out that it went against my duty as the god's servant to take on such a task. It was the only argument I won against him." 

I held the two sheets fan-wise so that I could see both the names Peter had written. "He did not say which one he preferred." 

"No. I told you, he left it to your judgment." 

I held the sheets for a moment more, then looked at Andrew steadily and said, "I think we both know which name he preferred. And though this is of no importance, my judgment concurs with the Chara's. So I will follow your lead and destroy the document containing my name." 

I tossed the sheet into the fire without another word, and then examined the remaining document. "He did not seal it." 

"He dared not seal them all; only one could be used. He had his clerk prepare the documents, but of course we can depend upon Brian's discretion." 

I weighed the document in my hand, considering. It would take time to fetch Brian from his city home, and in any case it would be cruel to interrupt his private grieving. I asked, "Where is the Chara's sealing wax?" 

Andrew pointed. Balls of red wax and a pile of papers sat on the table next to the bed; Peter must have been busy to the end, signing documents. I saw that one of the sheets was addressed to Ursula, but I did not touch it as I came forward. 

Andrew said, "You will use his seal?" 

"I think I must. It is better that the recipient of this not know that there were other documents, nor even that I have read the contents of the document." 

"Carle, it is death for you to touch the royal seal-ring. Allow me to do it; I am not subject to Emorian laws." 

After a moment I nodded. Andrew took from the Chara's hand his seal-ring and pressed one piece of wax onto the inside of the sheet and then another onto the outside to seal the folded paper before returning the ring to Peter's hand. Then he handed me the document. For the first time ever, we exchanged smiles. 

"Peter should have lived to have seen us working together like this," said Andrew. "It would have pleased him much." 

"If your Koretian religion is right, then no doubt he knows what we have done. I look forward to working with you again in the future, Ambassador." 

Then I left, and as I looked back I saw that Andrew was kneeling on the floor next to the bed, looking at Peter, much as he had on the Chara's enthronement night. 

o—o—o

I went straight to the Council Chamber, and there I found James, standing at the High Lord's place and rhythmically pounding the table with the hilt of his sword. 

I closed the doors to the chamber, which was dark but for a shaft of moonlight falling upon James, and empty but for the young lord before me. I walked over to the junior lords' end of the table before saying, "Please do not destroy the council's belongings, Lord James. That table has existed almost as long as the laws themselves and is likely to outlast both you and me." 

His head jerked up at the sound of my voice, and his nostrils flared, as a soldier's does when he sees an enemy on the field. But his voice was even as he said, "Lord Neville told me that you were back. I suppose that the Chara has asked you to resume the High Lordship." 

"Yes." 

James slammed his sword back into its sheath and gripped tightly the back of the chair that was no longer his. But his eyes were calm as he looked at me. "I had expected that this would happen, so I have had the council clerk make special notes while you were gone so that you would be able to catch up on affairs here. I will bring the notes over to your quarters this evening." 

"You may take as much time as you need to do so." 

"I would rather that it was done immediately. I plan to resign from the council tomorrow morning and start home at that time." 

His gaze did not waver from mine. I walked over to where he stood and said in my carefully practiced cold voice, "If the Chara could empty his pride and accept me back, I would have thought that a young man such as yourself could do so as well. You have many years ahead in which to prove your worth to the world." 

James gripped the chair tighter. His knuckles were white. "Lord Carle, you are an old man who has held power for many years, so I do not expect you to understand. I am not leaving out of resentment toward you; I am leaving simply because I cannot bear to go back to what I was before. I am like a horse who has been trained for war, and then finds that it will be spending its next few years grazing in a peaceful pasture. I cannot wait until you and the other senior council lords die off before I find a role to play here. I must lead, not follow, and if I cannot lead here, then I can at least lead my people at home." 

"Helping them to decide which fish to harvest, no doubt," I said, placing scorn on the edge of my voice. 

"There are worse ways to spend one's days. At least I will be able to guide the people. That was what I was born to do. It would kill me to have to go back to following the lead of you other lords, no matter how high the matters are that the Great Council deals with." 

"You will never be happy, living in such a small world," I said firmly. 

James bowed his head then. "No. I will not. But if I stayed here I would be of no use to anyone, and I may be of some use to my people at home. So I will follow where my duty calls me." 

"Even if it calls you to suffer?" 

"Even then." He hung his head for a moment more before looking up and asking, "Have I your permission to leave tomorrow?" 

"No." 

"Lord Carle—" 

"Your duty requires you to be here." I kept my voice low, though there was little reason to do so; at this time of night, the council quarters were always deserted. "I will need your help; I have just come from the Chara's deathbed." 

His eyes widened, but he succeeded in his attempt to keep his voice steady. "The Chara is dead? I had not realized that his illness had grown so serious." 

"He did not wish anyone to know. He knew that the news of his death would bring civil war to Emor, since he has no heir. It is likely that his cousin Seymour will fight for the throne, and it may be that some of Emor's enemies will take this opportunity to attack." 

"Koretia, you mean? The Jackal had many harsh things to say to the Chara before he returned to his land." 

"We may be able to prevent matters there from going beyond words. Lord Andrew is still here under Koretia's peace oath, so that will at least give us time to speak to the Jackal and point out to him that his quarrel was with the Chara Peter, not with the new Chara." 

"Whoever that may be." 

"As you say," I replied dryly. "Now, I will not prevent you from leaving in a few days if you wish, but I will at least need your immediate help in announcing the news." 

James licked his lips. His breath was now unsteady, and his gaze wavered from mine. After a moment he said in a low voice, "Lord Carle, I was not speaking lightly when I said that to stay here might mean my death. But you will need all of the help you can during the coming months, to keep this land from being destroyed. If you think that I may be of assistance to you, then I will not leave." 

"Oh, I suppose that even a young lord such as yourself might prove useful," I said, keeping my voice light. 

His eyes flashed up toward mine at this apparent show of sarcasm. He said, "By all the laws of Emor, Lord Carle, your words will not prevent me from staying here, since you say I may be of use to you. But it is my duty that keeps me here, not love of you, and neither of us need pretend that we will ever be anything more to each other than reluctant allies." 

"Duty is of the greatest importance," I said. "It takes one who has broken the law to fully understand the importance of the law. I have strayed from my duty, and you have risked your life in order to save the Chara Peter from the consequences of my folly; neither of us need lecture the other on the necessity of putting duty before one's feelings. But it is vital that you be willing to take on whatever duties are placed before you, whatever your own feelings on the matter may be." 

His gaze was firm once more as he said, "You have my word as the Chara's servant, Lord Carle. Use me as you wish; I will go wherever my duty calls." 

"Then you may begin your duty by opening this," I said, handing him the document. "Until the proper procedures are implemented, I am not yet returned to the council, and the Chara Peter instructed that this was to be given to the High Lord so that the council lords could decide whether to act on its contents." 

James stared down at the seal. "Did he tell you what those contents were?" 

"Since I did not arrive until after his death, the Chara Peter placed the document in the care of Lord Andrew. The document was sealed when Lord Andrew gave it to me." 

James placed his thumb under the paper fold and broke the seal; then he began to read the document. I knew the moment when he reached the name: his shoulders stiffened and his breath ceased. He read through the remainder of the sheet rapidly before silently handing it to me. 

I read through it again, and then laid the document on the table. James said in a strained voice, "Lord Carle, what shall I do with such a document? There is no precedent." 

"I thank you, Lord James. There have not been many events in the past few months that have cheered me, but the sight of you balking at the use of a royal proclamation brings mirth to my heart." 

James flushed red. "Please do not mock me, Lord Carle. You know – you know to your own benefit – that I am not averse to altering the division of powers if it will profit Emor. But this proclamation goes beyond anything I ever suggested. I thought that the Chara did not approve of tampering with the division." 

"If, by the Chara, you mean the late Chara Peter, then you ought to have listened more carefully to what he told you during those many weeks of conversation you held with him. The Chara Peter did not approve of altering the division _except_ in cases where the future of Emor was threatened. It seems he believed that the possibility of Emor being destroyed by endless civil war was reason enough to ask the council to name you as his heir." 

James continued to stare down at the document that lay on the table before him. I saw his finger touch one of the phrases above his name: "High Lord." 

I said, feeling my way carefully, "You must admit that it is a clever solution to maintaining the balance of powers in choosing the Chara To Be. Rather than remove powers from the council or add to them, the Chara reverses the powers. Under ordinary circumstances, the Chara's nearest kin is offered to the council for confirmation or rejection as the heir. This proclamation declares that, in a dilemma such as the present one, the council's High Lord is offered to the Chara for confirmation or rejection as the heir." 

I waited, barely breathing, but James did not look my way. Apparently he did not notice the ambiguity of my reference to the High Lord. Given his assumption of my love for ambition, I doubted that he would ever guess what I had passed over in his favor. 

His finger had trailed down on the document to one of the phrases below his name: "Judge of the People." I said, "Or do you perhaps have another reason for being reluctant to become Chara?" 

James's head jerked up. "I don't know what you mean, Lord Carle." 

"Come, now, Lord James, you are the brightest junior lord I have ever had; I know that you can see into your potential future. If you allow the council to name you as the new Chara, then for the rest of your life, many of your subjects will believe that you gained your throne through trickery. They will believe that you spent the last months of the Chara Peter's life scheming to force a dying man to name you as his heir." 

James's hands were balled into fists, and his chest rose and fell as he said, "It is not true, Lord Carle, and I swear that I will not accept such an insult from you." 

"I did not say it was true, Lord James. Whatever you may be, the Chara Peter was not the sort of man to allow himself to fall for such a plot. But many men will believe that is what happened, and it will be a grave blow to your vanity to know that, when men see you, they will not think of you as a brave, well-dressed, clever lord, but as a Chara who used deception and betrayal to gain his office." 

"My feelings," said James, his words exploding through his tight lips, "are of no importance. I do whatever my duty requires." 

"We have already established that," I said dryly. "There is no need for you to repeat yourself." 

I could see that James was too angry to retrace our conversation and discover the point at which he had unwittingly agreed to become Chara. He slammed his palms down onto the table as he said, "It is easy for you to talk of vanity. You have been a council lord for thirty years. You cannot know what it is like for me to gain my office by the condescending grace of the High Lord, to endure snide remarks from my fellow junior lords when I try to obtain more knowledge of the law by visiting the Chara, to be accused by all around me of questioning the division of powers purely in order to gain power for myself. I have endured all this since I came to the palace, and yet you will not allow me the luxury of worrying about whether the people would have respect for me if I became Chara." 

"Lord James, I have spent many years enduring accusations of being a cruel disciplinarian," I replied, "but I have never asked more of my students than I ask of myself. It is true that I have not undergone the particular circumstances you mention above. Instead, I have spent the past forty-four years being known, successively, as the council official who gained his office through the condescending grace of the High Lord, the junior lord who sidled his way into an advantageous friendship with the Chara Nicholas, the senior lord who gained his office through trickery and betrayal, and the High Lord who would never have become High Lord if it were not for the fact that the Chara Peter had shown charity toward his friend. Your recital of woes is impressive, Lord James, but not impressive enough for me to feel pity for you." 

When James spoke again, his voice was as well controlled as a blade in the hand of a master bladesman. "You enjoy this sort of game, don't you? You enjoy showing people what fools they are – forcing them to acknowledge their weaknesses and self-deceptions. I suppose that that is why you are encouraging me to take the throne – because you believe that you will always have power over me, always be in command. But you have forgotten one fact, Lord Carle. If I choose to become Chara, it is I who will be the master. For half a year now, you have told me again and again that the one master you have is the Chara and his law. If I take the throne, I intend to hold you to your oath by demanding from you your resignation as High Lord." 

I smiled. It was not my old, dark smile – that was gone forever – but the smile I had given to Peter on the day that he became a man. "Lord James, it is the custom of youth to think that its ideas are original and have no precedent. As it happens, I was living in the palace at the time that the Chara Nicholas was enthroned, and I well remember that his first act was to remove the old High Lord and replace him with a man he considered more qualified for the office. I do not know many things, but I do know what it means to be the Chara's servant, and if you become Chara, the first communication you will receive from me will be my resignation as council lord – to accept or reject, as you wish." 

James stood very still and his voice was hushed as he said, "Why? Why would you support me as Chara if it meant the ruin of your career?" 

"Because, Lord James, it was what the Chara Peter wished. Because he knew that only you have enough power to be Commander of the Armies, driving all rivals from the throne. Because only you have enough knowledge of the law to be Judge of the People, and enough respect for the law to inherit the face of the Chara in judgment. And because—" I hesitated, then finished quietly, "And because you remind me of the Chara Peter. He and I had many battles over the law, both private and public, and both of us suffered greatly from those battles. But in all the years I knew him, the Chara never allowed his quarrels or his sufferings to interfere with doing what he believed to be best for Emor and its people." 

It was my final challenge, my final lesson as James's tutor, for I knew that the moment had come to let my student go and accept my transformation from master to servant. Even his reply, when it came, would not be an opinion I could dispute, but a command I must accept. I lowered my eyes and waited. 

The sound of rasping metal caused my gaze to rise once more. James turned the sword hilt in his hand and deliberately gave the council table a triumphal tap. 

He said, "Battles I can promise you, High Lord. But if our battles serve to uphold the laws of Emor, then I imagine that both of us will be content." 

"Those," I said, "are surprisingly sage words from such a young man. It may be, Chara, that youth has its wisdom after all." 

o—o—o

Four years have passed since these last events took place, and it has taken me this long to record them here, for I and the council have been busy assisting the Chara in his war against the Emorian rebels. The final battle was fought only last month, and to the end, the future of the empire hung in peril, but we were able to hold onto our strongholds with the help of extra army divisions sent by the Jackal. 

The war years have tired me much, and I am looking forward to the day some time soon when I can become a non-voting member of the council and pass the High Lordship on to a successor. None of the senior council lords would be suitable for the title, but the Chara is considering various younger lords who might be trained for the role. 

As he predicted, James and I have never been more to each other than Chara and High Lord. I do not make late-night visits to the Chara's quarters in order to sit by the fire with him and chat in an intimate manner. But our disputes have served to broaden our knowledge of the law, and so this has brought greater benefits to Emor, I think, than if we had been friends. 

As my duties in the council lessen, I find myself spending more time in my village home. I was there yesterday when Andrew came to see me, having been sent to Emor with the news of Ursula's safe delivery of a son. The Jackal, who has no plans to marry, has proclaimed the child his heir presumptive, and should the child prove suitable, his council will no doubt confirm the decision, for the child's father is the Jackal's popular subcommander. 

I have continued to correspond with Ursula's husband, but the letter Andrew brought me this time was not from Brendon but from Ursula herself. Though the letter contained nothing that would cause either of us shame, I will not record it here. Amongst all that I have revealed in these pages, this alone shall remain hidden. 

Later I took Andrew out to the orchards, and he and I stood against the stone wall, watching as Grace climbed a ladder and began helping with the spring pruning of the branches. After a while, Andrew said, "That might have been me out there, working in your orchard. Do you remember that you once thought of sending me to be part of your household here? I was bitterly disappointed when you didn't, since it seemed to be the only way I could eventually gain freedom from you." 

"You ought to be grateful to me. If I had not kept you at the palace, you would not have become friends with the Chara." 

"That was what I thought later. But the older I get, the more I feel that it really would not have mattered which path I took. The god had me under his care, and as long as I followed his commands, all would have been well in the end." 

He was drinking cider from a flask, and his gaze was fixed on the trees, so common in Koretia, so rare in Emor. I said, "You and your Koretian superstitions. It is beyond me how you can be so learned in the law, yet cling to the idea that there are supernatural beings out there determining your fate." 

Andrew did not look my way, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Speaking of Koretian superstitions, I see that you still wear the god-mask badge." 

"Out of gratitude to you only. I hope that you recognize the sacrifice I make in wearing such a barbaric symbol." 

"Whether you wore it or not, you would still be under the care of the Unknowable God. You have done him service, and he does not forget those who are loyal to him." 

"And I suppose," I said with derision, "that you will want to convince me that the dreadful events of four years ago were just part of the god's pattern, and that I should be grateful to the god for allowing me the privilege of facing the high doom." 

Andrew turned then, and met my eyes with that cool gaze which had always infuriated me. "Since Peter's death was part of that pattern, it is hard for me to say such a thing," he said quietly, "yet I must believe that the god was able to turn what evil we did to good. And I know that you believe this too, for you see how Emor has received the benefit of your suffering. So there is no need, Carle, for you to be blasphemous against my religion when you too serve the Lawgiver and his laws." 

I said softly, with that dangerous tone of voice he knew well, "You have a Koretian ability to twist facts to suit your own view, but you will find in the end that the law is an entity which outlasts gods and men and all that you and I would consider important. Whichever master it is that you think you serve, you had best remember that." 

Andrew kept his eyes fixed on mine for a moment longer; then we both broke off our gazes, our affectionate bladeplay at an end. Andrew looked back at the orchard. Not far from where Grace was standing was the wall that bordered the graveyard. A few minutes before, we had stood in there while Andrew, at my request, had recited a prayer over the grave of my Koretian-born friend. 

Andrew said, "Your slave-servant doesn't seem to be able to reach those highest branches." 

"I had noticed. I was contemplating going to assist her." 

He gave one of his rare smiles then. "You will excuse me if I stay here. I can imagine no keener pleasure than to watch Lord Carle help one of his slave-girls." 

"You," I said, "were always an insolent slave." 

"And you were a rude and blustering master. Neither of us has changed." 

"Well, thank the laws of Emor that you recognize that!" I exclaimed. "For a moment there, I thought that you were trying to convince me to come to Koretia and become one of your priests." 

"And make you undergo a Koretian summer once more? I am not that eager to avenge my slave years with you." 

"Your summers would be bearable if you Koretians were not determined to make matters worse by lighting fires everywhere." 

Andrew did not reply. I glanced over at him, looking out onto the orchard dispassionately, and I added quietly, "I apologize. That is not a subject I ought to be joking about at a time like this. Does the Jackal think that war is very likely with Daxis?" 

"It seems almost certain," replied Andrew, his voice revealing no emotion. "So I may return home to find the city in flames again. John received a great deal of criticism from his council for sending those soldiers to Emor at such a time, but he said that he had other duties besides protecting Koretia. He ended up having to overrule the council on a number of issues." 

"Overrule it?" 

"Oh, yes, that is John's latest proclamation; he has the right to overrule the council in certain areas. It gives the Jackal and the council more of a chance to talk openly about their disagreements rather than decide matters independently. And there is certainly much to talk about, what with the possibility of Daxis attacking." 

I watched as Grace pulled her cloak tighter against the spring Emorian breeze. It occurred to me that, while I would like nothing better than to rest myself after the rebellion, this might be a good time for me to visit Daxis and make clear to the Daxion council that Emor was now allied with both its southern neighbors. It would also give me a chance to return to freedom a slave-woman who had never fully adjusted to life in Emor. 

"What is on your mind?" asked Andrew. His voice was quiet, but in it was the tone of authority that Peter had used whenever he compelled me to speak honestly. 

I said, "I was thinking that I once believed I derived the greatest pleasure from speaking with the Chara Peter because we shared a love of the law. Yet here I am, standing next to a man who comes from a barbaric and lawless land, discussing the ways in which the Jackal is destroying what small amounts of civilization Emor was able to impose on Koretia, and I feel as much at peace as I did in the days when I talked with Peter." 

There was a glimmer of warmth and amusement in Andrew's eyes as he said, "You know, High Lord, amidst all the darkness of this past winter, with war continuing in Emor and threatening in Koretia, the one way in which I had been able to cheer myself was with the thought of this trip. If I am lucky, I told myself, I will have a chance to see Carle, and if I am very lucky, he may be kind enough to bestow upon me his insults." He pushed himself away from the wall, handed me the half-empty flask, and said, "I think I'll help you prune those trees after all." 

I lingered where I was as the Koretian Ambassador went over to stand beside the Daxion slave. I saw him give her the free-man's greeting; then he began speaking with her. Grace laughed, and a sudden gust of wind blowing words my way revealed that Andrew was joking about me. I stayed where I was, leaning over the hard stone wall and sipping from the flask, reluctant to break into the conversation. Then Andrew turned his head to look at me. He gave no greeting, not even a smile, but as our eyes met, I felt the bonds of a servitude that went beyond the law. 

I walked forward to join my oldest friend.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Beta readers:_ Katharine Bond, Jen, Kathleen Livingston, A. B. Gayle, Hope of Dawn, and Nick. 
> 
> [Publication history](http://duskpeterson.com/cvhep.htm#lawofvengeance).
> 
> This story was originally published at [duskpeterson.com](http://duskpeterson.com). The story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Copyright © 2012, 2014, 2020 Dusk Peterson. Permission is granted for fan fiction or fan art inspired by this story. Please credit Dusk Peterson and duskpeterson.com for the original story.


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